


Be My +1

by vivilove



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Boners, Awkward Conversations, Characters Reading Fanfiction, Christmas, Crushes, Developing Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff and Humor, Frenemies, Friends to Lovers, Light Angst, New Year's Eve, Past Jon/Ygritte - Freeform, School Reunion, Sharing a Bed, Snowed In, Trope City basically, past Sansa/Harry, ski resort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-19
Updated: 2020-05-01
Packaged: 2021-01-23 08:31:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 47,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21317203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vivilove/pseuds/vivilove
Summary: “I was calling because I need a favor...”“Oh! Well, I’d be happy to help you out if…”“It’s a big favor.”“Oh…oh-kaaaay.What kind of favor?”Shit.********Seven months after she attended a wedding with her brother's work colleague (and gave him a tipsy, unrequited kiss when he walked her to the door), Sansa Stark finds herself in the unenviable situation of desperately needing a date for her prep school reunion at a ski resort which will also be attended by her ex-boyfriend/boss's son, Harry Hardyng and her Former-BFF/Frenemy, Margaery Tyrell.
Relationships: Jon Snow/Sansa Stark, Myrcella Baratheon/Trystane Martell (minor), Robb Stark/Rhaenys Targaryen (minor)
Comments: 786
Kudos: 870
Collections: JonsaWeek2019





	1. Favors

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lunakitty](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lunakitty/gifts).

> Tis the Season for some Fake/Pretend Relationship fun along with some other favorite tropes! This will be a multi-chapter but I'm tagging it as part of Jonsa Week with the Day 2 prompt- Tropes. 
> 
> Gifting this to the lovely Lunakitty! And big thanks to Lisa for the beautiful poster!

* * *

**How We Met**

“It’s just one Saturday night of your life, Sansa.”

“It’s a wedding, Robb. It’ll last ages.”

“A handful of hours at most.”

“Sorry. Austen is calling and I must go.”

“She’s been dead 200 years. She’s not going anywhere. Jon’s not terrible looking or anything.”

“Way to sell me on it.”

“Give him a chance. He’s nice, smart, funny even once he gets to know you.”

“Once he gets to know you? Is he shy?”

“More reserved than shy, I’d say.”

She grimaced at the thought of trying to draw an introvert, a _complete_ stranger _and_ an introvert, out of his shell all evening when she could be eating ice cream and watching P&P for the umpteenth time. On the other hand, Harry had been the opposite of reserved. Maybe reserved wasn’t all bad. Mr. Darcy was reserved.

“He’s a great guy. You’ll like him. I do.”

“Maybe you should go with him.”

“I’m taking Rhaenys actually.”

“Yes, his half-sister as I recall. Is this a ploy to get you some action, big brother?”

“Ha. Ha. She’s just a colleague…a friend.”

“Is that all she is?” Unintelligible grumbles were the response. Her brother wanted to be more than friends but had not made a move yet then. “I see.”

“We were going to make a double date of it actually.”

“Party of three?”

“Yeah, that would suck. Please, Sansa. Jon’s been down ever since he broke up with his girlfriend two months ago...”

“What fun for me.”

“And I know you’ve had cold feet about dating since Harry…even though he was a cheating asshole.”

“Thanks for that reminder and my feet are perfectly cozy without a cheating asshole in my life."

"I know but..."

"Oh, dear. Would you look at that? Mr. Darcy has struggled with something in vain. His feelings will not be repressed.”

“Aw, come on!”

“So, we’re two sad sacks who obviously should endure a wedding together because you want a chance to woo his sister, he has no one else to take and you don’t consider Miss Austen a suitable way for me to spend my Saturday evening?”

“Exactly. Wait…that sounded bad. Neither of you are sad sacks.”

“Why doesn’t he just bow out?”

“It’s our boss’s wedding. We have to go.”

“The joys of being junior partners, huh?”

“You nailed it. Please, Sansa? For me?”

Why was she so susceptible to her brothers when they gave her those pleading puppy eyes? Why was she so invested in pleasing people in general? “Fine. Just warn Jon Snow that someday he may be forced to return the favor.”

She’d only been joking about that. Apparently, Robb hadn’t made that plain to his friend. Which, as it so happened, would turn out rather fortuitous.

* * *

**Seven months later…**

Sansa drew a deep breath. It was time. Woman up or wimp out. She scrolled through her contacts. Alphabetized by last name, he was right above Arya. She’d chosen his work number because a) she didn’t have his cell number and b) she figured he was more likely to answer unrecognized numbers on that line.

_Fingers crossed. If I’m forced to leave a voice mail, it’ll be the most awkward voice mail ever. Or I’ll just hang up._

Three rings in and she didn’t think her heart could pound any harder. Her palms were sweaty and she doubted her closed up stomach could hold a tic-tac right now.

_Hang up! Hang up!_

But she didn’t hang up. The ringing had stopped. He’d picked up.

A cough and then she heard that deep, husky voice she could still recall all too well seven months later as he answered, “Jon Snow.”

“Hi, Jon. It’s Sansa Stark...Robb's sister. Do you remember me?”

_The woman who went to your boss’s wedding with you last minute in May? The one who taught you the Cha-Cha? And then got tipsy and flirty and wound up kissing you goodnight when you were just politely walking her to her door?_

Sansa cringed at the memory and then cringed harder as she waited for a response. Time seemed to have slowed to a snail’s pace.

_God, does he not even remember me?!_

The yawning pit of deathly silence ended as he abruptly cleared his throat. “Hey! Of course, I remember you, Sansa! It’s, uh…good to hear from you!” He sounded more than a little panicked. Not a good sign. “How’ve you been?”

“I’m good, thanks. I’m calling because I was…” Shit. She was the one panicking now. Or again. Something. She’d worked up the nerve to call and now she was completely blanking on the follow-through.

Why had she called again?

_The reunion!_

_Right._

“Sansa? Are you there?”

_I could pretend I lost the signal._

_And then what?!_

“Sorry. I’m here, Jon. I was calling because I need a favor. I guess it’s a bit of a quid pro quo sort of thing.” He was a lawyer. Maybe he’d find the Latin impressive or charming or…_fuck my life._

“Oh! Well, I’d be happy to help you out if…”

“It’s a big favor.”

“Oh…oh-_kaaaay_. What kind of favor?”

_Shit._

* * *

“So, I was hoping that maybe you’d be my plus one. I know this is asking a lot, especially around the holidays, but…”

“No, it’s fine, Sansa. I could do that, I think. What weekend was it? I’ll just need to check my calendar.” _My completely blank social calendar._ “Oh, look at that. December’s all clear.” _You could’ve at least let her give you the date first. Loser._

"You're okay with the skiing thing?"

"It's all good. I've gone skiing...twice. Do you mind the bunny slopes?"

She was giggling for the first time since she'd called and he felt the answering smile spreading across his whole face. "No, that's my speed too to be honest." Then, the giggling stopped. "And the relationship part...are you sure you don't mind?"

_You mean the part where I pretend to be your boyfriend? The part where we'll be sharing a suite together all weekend?! _

"No, it's fine." 

Naturally, his voice betrayed him. The 'no' was more of a shout. The 'it's' came out as a squeak and then his voice shot up to an octave he was pretty sure he'd not hit since he'd went through puberty with the 'fine.' 

_What in the fucking hell?! _

_We're excited, okay?!_

"Thank you, Jon. I'll call you back with details tomorrow. We could meet up for coffee."

"Yeah, that'd be great. Talk to you then." 

Once he hung up, Jon rolled back in his office chair and did a fist pump. _This is amazing! _ He then turned around and put his head in his hands. _This could be a disaster!_

A weekend getaway with Sansa Stark where he would pretend to be her boyfriend? This could be all his Christmas wishes come true or a complete nightmare. Being a cup half-empty kind of guy ordinarily, he was already fretting. But there was something about Sansa that made him want to be a cup half-full guy for once in his life. 

Seven months ago, Robb Stark had lined up his sister to go with him to their boss’s wedding. Jon thought he would both forever thank him and curse him for it. _No, I’ll just curse myself._

He’d still been kind of adrift after his break-up with Ygritte back in May. He’d not been ready to date exactly but he’d loathed the idea of going to the wedding stag since he knew Robb and Rhae were tiptoeing around taking the next step because of him. He loved his half-sister but Rhae was four years older than him so trying to pull the protective brother act normally got him a pat on the head or a kick to the ass. Plus, Robb was a decent guy, a friend. He didn’t mind them dating and hoped they were happy. Seven months later, they were quite happy.

But back to that night, though they’d been perfect strangers, he’d thought Sansa was nothing short of amazing within ten minutes of meeting her. She was gorgeous for one thing and charming for another. But more than that, her wit and friendliness combined with her evident social graces were much appreciated by his natural wallflower self. Mandatory social events like this usually gave him a huge headache but they’d got along swimmingly the whole evening and he’d had a good time.

For the first time that night, he’d started to feel ready to get out there and date again. More specifically, he'd felt ready to date a girl like Sansa...maybe a girl _named_ Sansa. Okay, he'd wanted to date Sansa.

So naturally, almost as if she’d had a secret listening device implanted inside his brain, Ygritte had sent him a text. Right after he’d learned how to Cha-Cha thanks to Sansa, partly feeling like a goof and partly loving every second of having his hands on her waist, and right before it had been time to drive Sansa home, she’d texted five words.

_Miss you. Can we talk?_

The timing of those five damn words had left him rattled, like he’d been cheating on his ex-girlfriend by being out and having a good time with another woman.

Nothing had come of that talk. When he’d called Ygritte the next day, things had quickly dissolved into the same fruitless arguments, the same indifferent impasse between them that had caused them to break up in the first place.

But between that and an admitted uncertainty of what was proper etiquette for this sort of thing, he’d wound up standing there woodenly when Sansa pressed her lips to his for a handful of seconds and wished him goodnight.

She’d been tipsy and they’d only met three hours earlier. He wouldn’t have dreamed of taking advantage or anything but if Ygritte hadn’t texted, what might he have done that night? That had been a question that had plagued him greatly the last seven months.

_I’d have told her what a lovely time I’d had with her. I would've asked for her number. I might've asked if she might like to go for coffee sometime. I would’ve done fucking something besides standing there like a mannequin when she kissed me and sprinting for the car like a coward._

Afraid he’d completely blown his chances and still needing to work through the rest of his obviously at the time unresolved shit with Ygritte, he’d not said anything to Robb about seeing his sister again nor had he made an effort to track her down on his own, telling himself she’d only been doing her brother a favor and would likely be just as relieved to never hear from Jon Snow again.

_Well, joke’s on you because she’s called you up now and you’re going to be seeing her again. Christ, her brother arranged the first date and she’s called to arrange this. Where are your balls hiding?_

_I said yes, didn’t I? I said yes to a weekend at a ski resort for her prep school reunion thing over the holiday break. I think that’s something at least. Fuck, I’d like for it to be something._

A weekend away with Sansa pretending to be her boyfriend. The pretending part could be tricky. He had a feeling he wouldn't have to pretend too hard...and he might wind up going home that Sunday night with a broken heart. 

He’d like to go back and redo that night in May but that was impossible. But fate (or at least Sansa's desire not to go alone) had given him another shot. He’d be her escort, her supposed boyfriend, for the various planned functions. They'd ski and drink hot cocoa at the lodge or whatever. They'd drink and socialize with people who were all strangers to him but, as long as Sansa was there, he could do it. He’d dance if she wanted to dance. He’d kiss her goodnight the way he wished he’d kissed her that night if she liked.

Why? 

Because, he wanted a second chance, a _real_ chance, with Sansa Stark.

And, if she was willing to give him one, even if it was just a favor in her mind, and there was even the slightest possibility that she might be interested in him romantically, he’d prove to her that he could be much more than just her plus one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Is Sansa calling up a man she hardly knows to be her escort for an out-of-town weekend trip/event especially realistic? No. 
> 
> Am I planning to have some fun writing this anyway? Yes! 
> 
> And for quality assurances purposes, etc. they will be spending some time getting to know each other better in the next two chapters before the actual trip including a little dress rehearsal of sorts with the Starks :)


	2. Why Even Go?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Arya and Anya in the same chapter gets a little confusing. Just saying...

**Arya: Why even go?**

**Sansa: Because it’s our reunion.**

**Arya: …**

**Sansa: I just have to.**

_Why even go?_

Yes, that was a good question. Leave it to her wonderfully blunt sister to boil the issue down to three words. Why even go to her silly prep school’s stupid reunion to celebrate 50 years since its founding when her ex-boyfriend would be attending as he was now the fiancé of her ex-BFF-turned-frenemy when she was a grown-ass woman with a life that did not revolve around her days at Snowy Gap Girls’ Preparatory School?

Well, for one thing, she’d helped organize the entire event. When Myrcella had called her up and asked if she’d help her put it together earlier this year, she’d said yes at once. Sansa was a people pleaser, always had been. _You know, the kind of girl who’ll agree to be someone’s escort to a wedding last minute._

She was also an event coordinator for a living so it made sense, didn’t it? And while work as the latter had taught her that she would never manage to please everyone, she did like to try.

However, last January when Myrcella had called to start planning this for late December, Sansa had been dating Harry Hardyng who just happened to be the step-son of her boss, Anya Waynwood.

_“Oh, a weekend reunion event at a ski resort for your prep school, Sansa? Doesn’t that sound marvelous?!”_ Anya had exclaimed when she’d learned of it through Harry. “_You know what you should do, right? Call up your little school chum and say you’ll handle it all, of course. Then, put out the word who you work for as you call the caterers and such. Get our little company some exposure that way, don’t you think? I’d just love it if you would.”_

'I'd just love it if you would.' That was Anya's polite way of saying, 'I expect you to do this and will be displeased if you don't.' Sansa hadn't caved to Anya’s little scheme entirely but she’d not given a direct refusal either. Just like Robb and Jon at the law firm, she was earning her stripes and pissing off the boss (no matter if she was overstepping boundaries) was not an ideal way to do that.

So, as far as Anya knew, Sansa was handling things and her ‘little’ multi-million dollar party planning company would get some exposure when the event hopefully went off without a hitch. Some exposure anyway. _I mean, I am listed as one of the organizers and some people are bound to ask what I do for a living._

**Sansa: I think I saw Jon pulling up.**

**Arya: this should be interesting **

**Sansa: We’ve agreed to meet for coffee a few times before the trip to get to know each other.**

**Arya: good way to make sure he’s not a serial killer before u go away with him, I guess**

**Sansa: He’s not a serial killer. He’s really nice. I like him.**

**Arya: then make him ur real boyfriend. ** **Speaking of which, I get why go but why do u need a fake boyfriend to go?**

**Sansa: Because I**

Sansa scowled at the phone, her fingers hovering over the screen trying to think of how to explain to her confident sister (who’d never have felt the need to have a fake boyfriend by her side to face anyone or anything) why she’d finally cracked and realized she couldn’t stand the thought of attending this event alone.

Then, she saw that it was clearly Jon entering the coffee shop where they’d agreed to meet to work out the trip details and get to know each other a little better...before going away for a weekend together. She'd have to try and explain her reasons later.

**Sansa: Gotta go!**

Throwing her phone in her bag, she smiled brightly and waved him over.

_Why do you need a fake boyfriend to go?_

An excellent question.

Sansa and Myrcella had spent hours putting the event together with the alumni foundation’s deep pockets at their disposal…which was where Margaery Tyrell came in since she'd recently taken on the overseeing of the foundation's funds from her grandmother. 

Back in school, Margaery had been a year ahead of Sansa and taken her under her wing as soon as she’d arrived. Born into a wealthy family and the daughter of an important man, Sansa had had a few ‘fake’ friends who had liked her for her last name and what social status she could bring them by that point but Margaery’s family was loaded and well known, too. She’d thought Margaery couldn’t possibly see her as a stepping-stone. She’d been wrong.

For two years, they’d been best friends, always sharing secrets and in each other’s pockets. But then Sansa had started dating Myrcella’s brother. Joffrey had been a student at Lion’s Tooth Academy, the nearby boys’ school and had come from an even wealthier and well-connected family than her own. Sansa, being new to actual teen romantic relationships in general, hadn’t known what to make of Margaery’s sudden _intense_ new friendship with Myrcella and the rather bizarre dating advice she was giving her.

In the end, Sansa had figured out on her own after a handful of dates that Joffrey wasn’t worth any girl’s time and attention no matter how rich he was or who his parents knew. She was grateful that her own friendship with Myrcella didn’t suffer…and not all that surprised when Joffrey came to pick up Margaery for a date a week later.

_People all thought she ‘stole’ my boyfriend. Technically, we were already done and I didn’t care. So, why should I care now?_

Because she’d done it again except this time she’d been a bit more ruthless about it.

_I mean, I’ve never stalked someone else’s social media so I can turn up wherever they are for three consecutive weekends, dressing nice and slutty and throwing myself at their boyfriend…their boyfriend with a regrettably roving eye._

Putting blame where blame was due though, it was Harry who had snuck around, Harry who had broken faith, Harry who had cheated. But the knife had twisted that much more knowing that it was Margaery he’d done that with. 

Of course, Margaery had given her a tearful apology and story of true love after Sansa had dumped his cheating ass. Her sister probably would've smacked Margaery's lying face as well as Harry's but that wasn't Sansa. And they _had_ wound up getting engaged a couple of months ago. Who could say what the story was for sure? Sansa also rather liked the idea of Harry getting taken to the cleaners in another year or so when Margaery was done with him. 

Gratefully, Anya had not made excuses for her step-son and verbally regretted him taking up with that ‘little schemer.' _Takes one to know one. _Unfortunately, she did bring the entire incident up more often than Sansa would care to be reminded of it. 

_But why do you need a fake boyfriend to go?_ her sister's voice asked insistently.

_Because I..._

Alright. Yes, Sansa was a modern woman who didn’t _need_ a man to feel good about herself or recognize her self-worth. She’d been perfectly fine since she’d kicked Harry’s cheating ass to the curb with minimal tears in her pint of ice cream over the failed relationship and a two-faced ex-friend. She had a wonderful family, good friends and a career she enjoyed despite the fact her boss drove her batty at times.

But as the reunion neared, she found herself waking up in a cold sweat in the middle of the night thinking about facing Margaery Tyrell with that ring on her finger. And then, there’d be Harry with his frat boy charm (not charming) saying ‘let’s be adults' and 'can't we all get along?’ while no doubt reporting every interaction of note back to his mother. And she was expected to smile in their faces all by her single self for a whole weekend of that?!

_Can I get an ‘oh, hell no?’_

And then there was the other side of this equation…

“Hello, Sansa." 

_God, help me, that husky voice and damn, he’s fine. He looks amazing in a suit. I’ll bet he’ll look amazing in flannel, too. Hell, he’d probably look amazing in one of those horrid ski jumpsuits._

“Hi, Jon!”

That had come out a touch breathily. _I sounded like a fourteen-year-old again fangirling over the lead singer of my favorite boyband._

Naturally, she’d already been completely and utterly aware of how hot Jon Snow was from that wedding seven months ago but absence and inebriation can make you forget certain details, like the way his eyes crinkled up at the corner and the way his pouty lips begged to be kissed. Also, his dark curls and soulful grey eyes were even more appealing than she’d recalled.

_Why the ever-loving-fuck am I asking him to be my fake boyfriend when I should be asking him to bend me over this table or let me sit on his face?_

_Been a while, has it?_

_YES!!_

Yes, she was thirsty.

No, it wasn’t all about that.

Jon was…well, he’d been so sweet that night at the wedding, charming (truly charming) despite his somewhat wallflower-ish, introverted ways. In fact, maybe that’d been part of the charm. But he wasn’t as awkward as she’d feared. Far from it. A grown man, an attorney and obviously comfortable overall with who he was, he'd shown her glimpses of a man used to leading others, not afraid to stand up for what he believed in as well as a kind-hearted person. And that night, as they'd laughed together and chatted, she'd realized that she did want more than Jane Austen for company on her Saturday nights. She wanted a man like Jon in her life maybe. She wanted Jon to be specific. 

Things had only turned awkward when she’d kissed him. Or maybe a little before then. He’d got quiet shortly before they’d left the wedding, growing pensive it seemed. She’d not noticed it right away but, going back over the night (and stone cold sober the next morning, she’d poured back over the night unflinchingly for the first of many times), he’d seemed like something had left him a little rattled before they’d left and on the drive back to her place, he'd been somewhat withdrawn as she'd been babbling away after the champagne. _Maybe the Cha-cha? Some guys are funny about dancing._

Speaking of dancing, as she rose from her seat to greet him properly, they engaged in a new and dreadfully awkward dance. It was the ‘what are we to each other?’ and the ‘how do you greet the person you barely know who you’ll soon share a room with while pretending you're in a serious romantic relationship?’ dance of how to greet each other that followed.

“It’s good to see you again, Jon!”

“You, too.”

She stuck out her hand just as his arms started to rise from his sides. Quickly, she mirrored his movements. Only, he’d realized that maybe the handshake was the safer bet and his hand darted forward, poking her in the belly just as she’d started closing the distance between their bodies.

With her arms lightly slung around his shoulders, his broad and muscled shoulders that spoke of time well spent at the gym, he managed to get his arms around her waist for the world’s most awkward hug at last.

Having enough time to register how good he smelled, she soon pulled back, her face feeling flushed after her first physical contact with Jon Snow since the unrequited kiss all those months ago. This was nearly as awkward but at least he'd initiated it this time...and she'd returned it.

His face was flushed as well and he was smiling shyly at her when they had separated again. Those crinkles were appearing in the corners of his eyes, making her belly do funny little somersaults now.

“Guess we’re going to need to work on that move to be a convincing couple, huh?”

And despite the passing awkwardness of the moment, she laughed and nodded. Yes, she’d like to work on that move (and maybe some others) some more with him.

They sat down to order coffee and engage in a little conversation, some 'let's get re/better acquainted' conversation, when Sansa heard her phone ding with a text. Not wanting to be rude, she ignored it and focused on Jon. But once they'd said goodbye, making plans to meet again (for lunch this time) in a few days, she pulled her phone out to look. 

**Arya: Mom wants to meet him**

**Sansa: What?**

**Arya: I told mom u had a new guy and might be taking a trip with him**

**Sansa: !!!!!**

**Arya: Figured it'd be good for him to meet the family. Plus, keeping a lie convincing for more than a few minutes takes practice**

**Sansa: !!!!!**

**Arya: You're welcome **

Before she could give her dear little sister a piece of her mind, her phone dinged again, causing her to yelp and nearly drop it and a sinking sensation to fill her when she saw that it was from her mother. 

**Mom: Can you make your candied yams for Christmas dinner? You know how much your father and Rickon love them.**

**Sansa: Of course.**

**Mom: And if you've got anyone special you might want to bring along, I hope you know he'd be welcome :)**

_Oh, my God!!!_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know this was mostly Sansa's background stuff but I hope you enjoyed it anyway. I promise things will be moving along (and starting to heat up) next chapter :) Thanks so much for reading! 
> 
> And if you read my other stuff, I've got one more fic for Jonsa Week to post tomorrow and then I'll update Leather & Lace on Monday before taking a short hiatus :)


	3. Under the Microscope & the Mistletoe

_“I hate asking you but…”_

_“No, I’d like to meet them.”_

_“Thank you. They’re eager to meet you. I can always tell them the whole truth if you prefer but I thought we could use this as a little dress rehearsal of sorts.”_

_“It’s fine but I’ll warn you that I’m not much of an actor.”_

_“But you stand up in court and put on an act of sorts, don’t you?”_

_“Yeah but I like to think the things I’m saying are true when I’m in front of Judge and Jury…seven times out of ten anyway.”_

_She did this little laugh that came out as a bit of a snort and, by God, when did that become his favorite sound in all the world? But soon, she sounded fretful again. “Are you sure this will be alright, Jon?”_

_“Of course, it will. We’re not perfect strangers. We’ve attended a formal event together, talked on the phone and texted multiple times, had coffee three times and lunch twice now. We’re practically engaged.” She started snickering. “It’ll be alright, Sansa. We’re having Christmas dinner with your family and trying out being a couple in front of other people.”_

_“I just don’t want you to feel ganged up on or anything. My siblings can be a bit insufferable.”_

_“I’m sure I won’t feel that way. My sister’s going to be there, too, right?”_

Yes, his half-sister would be there since she’d been dating Robb the past seven months and had been invited as well.

No, he didn’t mind practicing being a couple in front of her family…even if they weren’t truly a couple.

Yes, it was alright to spend his Christmas this way. (Any opportunity to see more of Sansa was a-okay with him.)

But could he manage to be convincing? Or would he end up feeling ganged up on by the other Starks?

_The jury’s still out._

Robb had been a little strange around the office the past few days since he’d found out about their upcoming trip. Jon hadn’t been sure how to explain it and mumbled that he and Sansa had been seeing each other. _I didn't specify precisely how long we've been seeing each other. Technically, lunch and coffee is_ _seeing each other. I'm a lawyer, alright? How I phrase things is part of how I bring home the bacon._ He'd then said Sansa had asked him to be her plus one for this and he’d figured he owed her after the wedding in May.

_“But you’ll be sharing a room?”_

_“Uh…it’s a suite.”_

Technically, it was though the suite only had one king-sized bed. He hadn’t mentioned that. There was surely other furniture one would be capable of sleeping on in a suite. They hadn’t nailed down the sleeping arrangements yet but he figured it’d be Sofa City for him which was fine.

_I mean, I wouldn’t object to sharing a bed with her. There's only one bed but I could behave and…Good God, you are dreaming, man. This isn’t fanfiction! She’s not going to ask you to share the bed so get the fuck over yourself and your <strike>wet</strike> <strike>dreams</strike>...uh, daydreams._

Technically, they were adults and it wasn’t really Robb’s business what the sleeping arrangements were but he was Sansa’s brother and Jon understood that his concerns were born out of love for her. _Not to mention as far as Robb knew, we'd not spoken since May...which we hadn't until recently. _

But Robb’s reaction aside, there was someone else he hadn’t spoken with about this yet. That other interested party from the office (the one who had some serious blackmail-worthy photos of him from his childhood and teen years and who’d dropped some pretty heavy hints after the wedding in May that he should definitely ask Sansa Stark out on a legit date and then given him baleful looks of disappointment when his cowardly ass hadn't) had been out of town attending a judicial conference up until the firm had closed for the holidays on the 20th and hadn’t had a chance to corner him.

**DING-DONG!**

_Maybe that’s about to change…_

“Merry Christmas!” she said breathlessly as he opened the door. “I know I should’ve texted but I decided to stop by. I thought we could ride to the Starks’ together if you like.”

“Merry Christmas, Rhae.” He took her coat and kissed her cheek before leading her inside, both of them trying to wade past Ghost who was desperate for belly rubs and snuggles. “I figured you’d be riding over with Robb,” he said once the proper greetings and salutations had been offered to his beloved canine.

“I thought my little brother could use some moral support heading into the wolf den.”

He started to roll his eyes at ‘little’ brother but paused at those last two words. “The wolf den?”

“Yeah, they’re pretty tight-knit from what I can tell and you’ll be the newbie this time.”

“I thought you said they were all lovely.”

“They are.”

“If they’re all lovely, why're you worrying about me?” She raised her eyebrows. “Oh, right. I’m forever the ‘little’ brother.”

“Don’t huff at me.”

“Huff at you? I do not _huff_,” he huffed.

She started laughing and ruffled his hair. To Rhae, he would always be her little brother, just like Aegon. And honestly, there was still a little boy inside him who didn’t mind so much. He loved that she had accepted him from the start and was so protective of him even when the adults in their lives had been too bound up in their own wounded feelings and anger to understand all of his worries, confusion and fears of inadequacy.

The circumstances surrounding his conception and birth were very strained, to say the least. His father had been a fairly successful businessman _and_ a selfish, cheating asshole. His mother had been his beautiful young secretary who had been seduced by her older, _married_ boss.

Rhae’s mother had been wronged and it wasn’t surprising that she’d had a hard time accepting Jon’s presence in their lives once things came to a head. The whole time he’d been growing up, Elia had never once been cruel or even unkind but his existence was a regular reminder of her husband’s infidelity after all and she’d not exactly been warm either.

As a child, his stomach would often knot up when his mother told him he’d be spending time with his father, whether it was for an afternoon, a weekend or a longer stretch. How he’d dreaded walking into that house, never knowing if he’d receive affection or indifference from the often reserved and melancholic man who had fathered him. And he’d always felt underfoot when it came Rhaegar’s wife.

_“Will Rhaenys be there?”_ he’d ask his mother in a small voice, clutching her hand and hating that she’d look so sad when he asked.

And depending on the answer, the knots would ease some or the anxiety would increase. But he’d smile bravely for her either way. He’d hated for his mother to worry.

That had been when he was a child though. His mother had married quite happily ten years ago (her husband had surprised her with a cruise this year for the holidays) and Jon’s relationship with Elia, Aegon and even his father was pretty good overall these days but it didn’t compare to his and Rhae’s.

“So, can your big sis give you a ride or not?”

“Actually, Sansa’s coming over to pick me up. You can ride with us if you like.”

“Oh no, if that’s the case, I’ll drive over on my own,” she smirked.

“Seriously, I’m sure she wouldn’t mind. She likes you.”

“Yes, I like her, too. But I would hate to interrupt any pre-Christmas Dinner working-up of the old appetite you two might be planning.” She added a wink for emphasis.

It’s funny really the way emotions can prompt an instantaneous, physical reaction from the body. He was embarrassed by his sister’s words but also more than a little titillated at the thoughts of working up an appetite with Sansa in that manner. That was all internal. The blood rushing to his face was internal too but also quite visible.

“Oh, you are, aren’t you?!” Rhae laughed, misinterpreting his blush for a confirmation.

He smiled sheepishly and shrugged. He should play along. That’s what they were going to be doing on the trip and a little of what they’d be trying out today. This was his first ‘test’ so to speak.

_Just pretend that she’s correct in her assumption and tell her you’ll see her later._

_But it’s Rhae...I don't want to lie to Rhae._

Sansa wasn’t truly his girlfriend but he was definitely starting to think he wanted her to be. And he wanted somebody who cared about him to know it.

She ruffled his hair again after he’d told her. “If you really like her, don’t be afraid to make a move when the time feels right, Jon. I’m not saying today during Christmas Dinner with her parents but there should be excellent chances coming up over the weekend, am I right?”

“You’re right…I hope.”

* * *

The last of everyone's utensils were laid down at last. It was almost movie time. She'd already determined to speak before anyone could beat her to the punch. 

“Jon and I’ll clean up, Mom!”

Her mother blinked at her and then smiled warmly. Arya was smirking. Rhaenys was staring at her rather intently. Her brothers were talking about which movies they were going to watch. Her mother had already nixed 'Die Hard' as the first selection and they'd made gagging sounds at the suggestion of 'A Miracle on 34th Street.' Jon and her father had been politely conversing over their coffee but that came to a halt after her announcement. 

She glanced his way as the heavy silence filled the room. It was just the dishes but she supposed she had blurted that out rather loudly. Maybe she shouldn’t just volunteer him to wash dishes that way. He was a guest at her parent’s home for the first time and, even if they were pretending to be a real couple, she should’ve quietly asked him instead of speaking up for him, shouldn’t she? 

However, the relieved nod and immediate verbal support of her suggestion he gave told her she’d not made a mistake in making the offer. He was as eager as she was to escape the family for a little bit.

_And who can blame him?_

Her parents had been polite.

_"Would you care for more ham, Jon? And tell us how you met Sansa again."_

_"Rhaenys mentioned you attended the same law school but went to different schools for undergrad. Where'd you go?" _

_"Sansa, have you warned Jon about all the events you've got planned for this reunion?"_

Her siblings had been far more blunt.

_"What'd you get Sansa for Christmas? Any jewelry?"_

_"Sansa, did you tell him about Harry and Margaery?"_

_"Robb got a 173 on the LSAT? What'd you score?"_

_"He got a 175."_

That had been Rhaenys who'd obviously started getting a little defensive over the grilling her brother was receiving. 

Things had been growing increasingly tense since their arrival ninety minutes earlier, in both a mortifying way from all the questions but also a strangely intoxicating way with him sitting beside her at the table with his thigh lightly pressed against hers. They needed a break to regroup and talk without feeling like they were on stage performing. At least, she did.

This was not as easy as she’d thought it’d be. Maybe it was because this was her family, people she truly loved versus some people she’d attended school with years ago who she’d likely not see for another five to ten years or more. _You’re a fool, Sansa Stark,_ she thought sadly as she made her way into the kitchen with Jon on her heels. _You’re going to ruin your chances at something real with Jon (if he’d even want that) and probably make a fool of yourself while you’re at it._ Would she ever learn? And why was she cursed to always overthink everything?

But honestly, from the moment she’d stepped into Jon’s home to pick him up, she’d felt a different vibe with him today. The sweetly awkward but friendly compatibility they’d been working on forging with each other for the past couple of weeks seemed lacking today. He seemed to measure his words a little more carefully. His looks were not as easy to interpret but it was like he was on edge. His eyes even seemed darker in some way.

Why? Was he having second thoughts about going? About doing this for her? It was a big favor. Huge, really. She was asking so much of him, taking up his precious time off from work and for what? She had nothing to offer him except her dubiously desirable company as he stood by her side like some sort of trophy all so she could chat with people he didn’t know from Adam and not feel like such a loser in the presence of her ex-friend and boyfriend.

Maybe she was reading too much into his behavior. Today was Christmas and the holidays could effect people in various ways. Not everyone associated them with good times. They’d talked some about his family at lunch the other day. From what she’d learned so far, it didn’t sound like it had been The Worst but maybe it hadn't been a Hallmark Greeting Card childhood either.

Or maybe it was just that there was this new level of awareness now that the trip was drawing so near. In less than 48 hours, they’d be boarding a flight together and spending the following 72 hours in each other’s company. As nervous as she’d been at the thoughts of taking that flight alone, she was now all kinds of nervous in an entirely different way. _Not to mention, you'll be sharing a suite...and maybe the bed._ Would he think that too forward of her to suggest? Or rude of her not to? She wanted him to be comfortable but how comfortable would she be with him lying in the bed with only a couple of feet between them? _Should I offer to take the sofa? I mean, he's the one doing me the favor. He's gentlemanly. He might be offended if you offer that. I don't know._.._HELP!!_

The most relaxed moments between them had been when she'd met his dog Ghost. _“Oh, he's gorgeous and such a good boy!"_

_“You can’t tell him that.”_

_“Why not? Surely, you’re not going to tell me it’s not true.”_

_“Of course, it’s true but he’s already spoiled rotten.”_

_“He deserves all the spoiling, don’t you, Ghost?”_

She’d got more doggy kisses for that and looked up to see Jon smiling softly at her and Ghost. It had literally taken her breath away and she was seriously beginning to wonder how she was going to handle things going back to the way they were after this trip was over, back to a life with no Jon in it. 

He’d met Lady the other day and she sort of adored the fact that they both owned huskies, something they hadn’t found out about each other until that first time they’d had coffee. They’d played a little game of twenty questions and discovered they were both ‘dog parents.’ It had felt like such a cute couple-ish thing at the time. _But we’re not really a couple._

_We could be friends though, couldn't we? Even if he's not interested in me, we could meet up for coffee and introduce our dogs and...something._

Her brow was furrowed as she thoroughly questioned what they were doing and how she'd managed to get in too deep already.

“Hey. Are you okay?” His voice was a gentle rasp and his warm hand tentatively squeezing her elbow made her pulse jump.

“Yeah, I just thought we both needed a little chance to, uh…be alone.” Dammit. Why did her face have to catch fire when she said it? Why was she sad when his hand dropped from her elbow?

He gave her a long look like he was trying to decide something before his head bobbed once. “Alone is good.”

_What does that mean? Would he rather be alone? Does he dislike me? Is he…_

He grimaced and then started chuckling. “I meant, alone together is good.”

“Yeah, alone together.”

They stood side by side at the sink after scraping off plates, washing and drying her mother’s fine china. This was better, more like it had been between them. It was couple-ish, wasn't it? Doing the dishes together in companionable silence. They could handle this weekend. She’d been worrying over nothing.

“Sansa…I have a confession to make.”

_Oh, shit. He despises this whole ruse already and wishes he’d never agreed to come with me!_

She cleared her throat, steeling herself for it. “Yeah?”

“I told Rhae.”

“I’m sorry?”

“I told Rhae that we’re sort of…”

He gestured between them. Holding the dish towel as he did so was oddly appealing for some reason. Harry had never been much for helping out around her place when he’d come for dinner or even when he’d practically been living there part-time later on. But Jon Snow with his shirtsleeve rolled up and a flustered, chagrined look on his face and holding a green and red Christmasy dish towel was sexy as fuck. 

_Holy shit, I'm turned on by a man drying the dishes. How sad is that? But I desperately want to kiss him, too. _

_Not the point right now, Sansa!_

“You told Rhae we’re sort of…”

“I told Rhae the truth. That you invited me but we’re not really…we’ve not really been…dating or seeing each other. That is until you called and asked me to go on the trip with you but…fuck, I'm sorry.”

He hung his head but she didn’t know why. He was confessing that he’d told his sister? Why, that wasn’t even something that had to be confessed really. How many secrets had Harry hid from her? And Jon was ‘confessing’ over sharing the truth with a family member that they weren’t really a couple?

And sidebar-the way his teeth scraped across his bottom lip when he said 'fuck' (and just him saying the word fuck for some reason) had her hot again. _Get a hold of yourself, woman!_

“There's no need to apologize, Jon. It’s perfectly fine. I told Arya.”

“You did?”

“Yeah. I hope you’re not upset that I didn’t tell you that.”

“No, I…I guess, I was worried I was supposed to keep this a secret.”

“I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I don’t want you to lie to your sister. I know you’re close. And it's good to have a confidant outside of each other, right?"

"Right." 

He was grinning now. That grin was not helping her battle to be rational and not pin him against the kitchen counter and kiss him for all she was worth. _Yeah and maybe I'd like him to pin me against the counter instead._

"_Ahem_...I hope you’ve not been too bothered by Bran and Rickon and all their questions today.”

The pair had been extra inquisitive, making up for Arya who’d apparently decided to take it easy on her after arranging this whole Christmas Dinner business and Robb who a) already knew and liked Jon and b) was on his best behavior since he was dating Jon’s sister and probably feared going home alone tonight if he picked on her brother.

"No, they're fine."

"And the movie marathon thing is kind of a Stark family tradition but please, don't feel obligated to stay any later than you want to. I'll take you back home whenever you say."

"I don't mind watching movies. It's not like I've got plans other than hanging out with Ghost later. My mom and I used to go to the movies on Christmas Day when I was a kid."

"Really?" 

"Uh huh. We'd sleep late, open presents, eat too many cinnamon rolls and then go find something playing we both wanted to see. After that, we'd pick up some Thai take-away or something."

"Wow. That sounds fun actually." She'd spent every single Christmas Day at home. As a kid, they wouldn't even change out of their pajamas. Even after she'd moved out, she'd always come home for Christmas Day at least. Sometimes, relatives would visit but they'd always had a traditional family dinner and then watched Christmas movies together afterwards, traditional and not-so-traditional ones. 

She liked learning something else about Jon and his childhood. It made her feel kind of warm and fuzzy inside. 

She told him about her Christmases in return and he seemed like he enjoyed knowing something else about her, too. "I think it's great how close you all are. It'd be nice to just lay around in pajamas, too."

"An unfortunate side effect of moving out...we no longer get to stay in our pajamas all day." 

“So, has your family always been this fond of mistletoe?” Jon asked next with another grin, this one irresistibly wry.

“I can’t say that they have,” she snickered…and then snorted.

_UGH!_ Why did she have to snort like that when she laughed around Jon? Harry had always made fun of her when it happened, not that he’d made her laugh all that much after the first couple of months. But Jon didn’t seem inclined to make fun of her. He just grinned wider. His grins were definitely not doing her sanity any good. They were far too fetching and she found herself wishing there was some mistletoe hanging about this sink at the moment.

“No, it’s just Mom’s idea of decorating. Every year, there's a theme and it's mistletoe this year."

Before Sansa was even born, her mother had been well on her way to being the Hostess with the Mostess throughout her parents' circle of friends and her father’s business associates. Judging by Sansa’s choice of career, she’d had an impact on one of her children anyway. And this year, the fine bone set from Lenox with sprigs of mistletoe and 24k gold accenting the edges which they’d all dined off of was just the beginning. Mistletoe dominated the 'decorative' tree in the sitting room. The family one filled with years of hand-made ornaments from the kids remained in the den. There was mistletoe strung along the hearth and bannister, placed in all the centerpieces and little kissing elves, stuffed wolves, foxes and bears were sitting beneath some of the settings. 

But Arya _might_ have had a role in how much of the real McCoy was strategically hung up around the house (in nearly every doorway and other places even like the coat closet), judging by her mischievous look.

_“Mistletoe!”_ Bran had shouted no sooner than they’d walked through the front door.

Sansa’s eyes had widened and her cheeks had turned pink when she’d seen that it was here, there and everywhere in her mother’s foyer.

Luckily, Robb and Rhaenys had been right behind them walking in. The longer-standing couple had shared a quick kiss and her father had walked in to shake Jon’s hand so the potentially awkward moment had passed without a kiss.

_“Oh, look…mistletoe,”_ Arya had said (trying to sound innocent but Sansa wasn’t buying it) when they’d entered the dining room a few minutes later.

But Rickon had had excellent timing. He’d been racing towards food (he was a teenager and perpetually hungry) and skidded right into Sansa’s back. Even knowing the results would probably be far more dramatic than if she’d just kissed Jon instead, she’d still chickened out from making a move and kissed her little brother on the cheek.

_“Ewwwww! Why’d you do that?!”_ he’d shouted and then spent an offensive and unreasonable amount of time rubbing her kiss away.

The others had laughed though and she’d figured she’d avoided being forced to kiss Jon by some pernicious parasitic plant. Not that she didn’t want to kiss Jon but she rather loathed the thought of being the one to initiate another kiss considering how that first one had gone. 

And why should a bit of shrubbery hanging about compel two people (mere acquaintances even) to press their lips together in some sort of display of…of what? Mandatory Yuletide Merriment? It was ridiculous. _Damn plants are poisonous, too. Won’t find so much as a leaf of it at my house with Lady around._

But, dragging her thoughts back to the present (and her present feelings of uncertainty), she hoped Jon didn't feel annoyed by the pressure to kiss in the presence of the plant. 

"Sorry about all the mistletoe," she said as she was draining the soapy water. 

Jon gave her another one of those long looks as he finished drying the last plate and laid down his dish towel. He was angled towards her, one hand resting on the counter right in front of her. When she turned to face him, she was surprised by how close they were standing to each other. _Alone together_.

“You don’t have to apologize for the mistletoe. I kind of like it.”

“You do?” 

The sun was shining through the kitchen window, highlighting those dark grey eyes of his. In the sunlight, there seemed to be subtle flecks of violet in them. They really were a beautiful pair of eyes. She liked thinking she’d discovered something else about Jon today. She knew how he'd spent his Christmases as a child and she'd noticed something else about his eyes. Every time she found out something new, she wanted to make a note of it. 

But the way those eyes were staring at her right now, looking at her the same way he’d been eyeing her candied yams and her mother’s chocolate-covered cherry cake earlier, maybe she had been worrying needlessly earlier. He didn’t appear to dislike her at all at the moment. In fact…

“Yeah, I like it.” Damn, his voice had dipped nice and low there, all gravelly and…fuck. “I think we’d be one of those couples who kiss under it, don’t you?”

She couldn’t even manage so much as a breathy yes. She nodded rapidly before her eyes automatically looked above them, searching for a blessed branch or single sprig of the marvelous verdure to test his theory. 

He chuckled softly at her searching and she smiled, not minding the blush she could feel spreading across her cheeks now as they stood there. The hand resting at his side gently grasped one of hers. Her heart was racing and the most delicious anticipation was building when he lifted his eyes to hers again. 

“Sansa, I was…”

“Are you sure you two don’t need any help in here?” an officiously bright and unwelcome voice called out.

Like a bucket of ice water had been poured over her head, Sansa audibly gasped as her mother fully entered the kitchen. She automatically took two steps back from the sink and Jon. She couldn't help noticing how his face briefly flashed with frustration but he soon smiled and turned to face his hostess. 

“No, thank you, Mrs. Stark. We just finished. And thank you again for having me, dinner was delicious. I loved the candied yams and your cake especially.”

“I am…uh, you’re very welcome, Jon. I hope you’ll come visit us again soon.” Sansa could tell her mother was now second-guessing her helpful offer and wondering if she should have stayed in the living room. _Which you totally should have! _

She couldn’t stay mad at her mother though. “Yeah, we’re all done, Mom. We’ll come and join everyone in the living room.”

The moment might’ve passed but at least she wasn’t worrying that Jon was having second thoughts about joining her on the trip anymore. She was almost certain he’d been about to kiss her. She grinned giddily to herself as they walked down the hall towards where the rest of the family waited. 

When Jon stopped briefly to tie his shoe, her mother whispered in her ear. “I like him, Sansa.”

“Thanks.” _I really like him, too_.

When the three of them entered the living room, the first selection ('Home Alone') was playing and she saw that the only unoccupied place to sit besides her mother’s favorite chair was the loveseat closer to the large picture window, a perfect place for lovers to cozily sit side by side after their holiday meal. She was surprised Robb and Rhaenys hadn't claimed it. Arya was smirking at her, no doubt she’d arranged that. Robb and Rhaenys were on one of the sofas together, nuzzled up close and ignoring a miserable Bran on the other end of it. 

She took Jon’s hand to lead him to their seat and started giggling to herself when she saw what must've been the cause of her sister's smirk. Hanging above the loveseat, precariously attached from the reading lamp arched over it, was a sprig of mistletoe which had certainly not been there when they’d arrived earlier. 

“Mistletoe!” Rhaenys and Arya cried at the same time when they took a seat.

She could hear Robb's groan, her mother's girlish sigh, her father's quiet grumble and Rickon laughing like the devil. She did not care. He was going to kiss her. _He'd_ be the one to kiss _her_ this time. 

“What a lucky place for me to sit,” Jon said, shooting his sister an amused look. 

But his amusement shifted into a more heated look when he turned back towards her. He lightly cupped her cheek with one hand, his eyes searching hers for permission. She gave a slight nod. _Yes, you can kiss me_. She tilted her head back in invitation. 

“I do love mistletoe,” he murmured before he leaned forward and pressed his lips to hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise they’ll be off on their trip next chapter but I hope you enjoyed this one ❤️


	4. Truth or Fanfic?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I wound up playing with that hint of Jon reading fanfic from earlier. Sorry, not sorry :)

_“I do love mistletoe,” he murmurs before he leans forward and presses his lips to hers._

_Devilish laughter rings out and she hears dishes clattering somewhere nearby but she would swear they’re alone here in _ _the woods. _

_Snowflakes dust their heavy cloaks and are clinging to his lashes. His lips are dry but firm. She wants to savor his kiss forever. She wishes there was time for more than just a kiss because she’s a wicked girl._

_“Do you really want that here, you naughty wench?”_

_She gasps. Had she said that out loud? Did he just call her a wench? Does she mind if he did? Would he dare do what she wants him to do to her?_

_“Aye, you know I will,” he chuckles against her cheek, his hot breath sending a shiver down her spine._

_He pulls her closer up against him. His body is rock hard and he smells like pine trees. She hears the creak of leather as he removes his sword belt. Cold wind chaps her legs as her skirts are being pushed up._

_Before she knows it, he’s gently caging her body between his and a tree. He’s going to take her right here. Her cheeks flame at the sheer indecency of this as her loins tighten up in anticipation._

_She glances up above her. Where did the mistletoe go?_

**SCREECH!**

She grasped the hand next to hers in her momentary panic. He squeezed hers in return. “It’s okay, Sansa. We’re okay. We’re here.” The airplane’s wheels touching down had startled her awake.

“I must’ve nodded off!” she gasped as she scrambled into a more upright position. 

Admittedly, she'd not slept a wink last night. She'd second-guessed nearly every article of clothing she'd packed, decided to unpack it all, then stared at it before resigning herself to packing it all again. Then, once she'd laid down, she'd been fruitlessly churning over the upcoming trip all night and the various scenarios, exchanges and potential disasters that could lead to her eternal embarrassment (what if she came down with some intestinal malady while they were sharing a bathroom this weekend?) or outright heartbreak (what if...what if...). Finally, she'd decided to read but she'd been so caught up in binging a new story even that hadn't exactly helped her go to sleep. 

She hadn't meant to drift off but she had and...She’d had her head on his shoulder! Had she been snoring?! Had she drooled on him?!

_Oh, holy shit! You’re worried about whether or not you drooled when you were busy inserting Jon into your ‘Winter’s Wolves’ fantasy and…well, basically ready to let him fuck you against a tree?! All while he was right here beside you?!_

“It’s no problem. I’m glad you could rest.”

Her mortification turned to guilt. “I’m sorry. I was supposed to keep you company.” _Not spend the flight dreaming up some mish-mash of the fanfic I was reading last night and our mistletoe kiss from two days ago._

“I was fine, I promise.”

“Are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Thank you for talking me through the take-off earlier. That’s the worst part for me. The rest was okay and…well, to be honest, listening to you sleep distracted me.”

Her eyes widened in horror. She _had_ snored!

“You were sleeping so peacefully, the steady breathing in and out. I focused on that, even matched my breathing with yours. It helped.”

He’d matched his breathing with hers while she slept with her head on his shoulder? Was she the biggest sap ever to swoon over that?

_Poor man was trying to avoid having a mid-flight panic attack and you’re turning it into a Harlequin romance._

Sap or not, his expression was sincere so she would take him at his word and cast that guilt away. She hoped he wouldn’t notice her blushing though when her mind’s eye gave her a quick flash of what they’d been readying to do in those woods while he was matching his breathing with hers.

“I'm glad it, um...helped." She glanced down at his hand that she was still holding and could feel her face growing warmer.

Today, she’d learned something else about Jon. She would not need to make a note to remember this. She’d remember and keep it between them, touched that he’d shared it. A person’s fears and phobias make them feel vulnerable and Jon had revealed one of his to her.

_“I’m afraid of flying...like really afraid,”_ he’d admitted between clenched teeth as his knuckles had been turning white while the flight attendant was going through the customary pre-flight safety information. _“I don’t…I don’t normally tell anyone that. My ex-girlfriend thought it was funny. She kind of made it a running joke with some of our…some of her friends.”_

_What a bitch._ She hadn’t said that though. _“Fear of flying is quite common and nothing to be ashamed of. Being afraid isn’t fun but I believe we’ll be okay. Hold my hand if you like and we’ll think of something pleasant to talk about to pass the time.”_

_“Thank you, Sansa. _ _Would you mind not mentioning it to Robb or…”_

_“Not a word,”_ she’d promised.

She’d been pleased to learn something else about him even if she’d regretted he wasn’t going to enjoy the flight. _And he agreed to come with you knowing air travel would be involved. _Her belly had swooped at the realization. Why’d that make her belly swoop?

_Because he thought you were worth facing his fear for...and because you’re falling for him._

She was. Maybe she was doomed to fall for him from the start.

_A weekend, he’s only yours for the weekend and it isn't even real. _

_But then what? This is pure fake-pretend relationship/road trip stuff right out of fanfic but could it be more? Don't you want more?_

She did. 

He’d kissed her on her parents’ loveseat the other day under the mistletoe. She'd catalogued every detail of that kiss in her bed that night. But when she’d driven him home that evening, neither of them had mentioned the kiss.

_“Merry Christmas, Sansa,”_ he’d said quietly when she’d pulled to a stop.

_“Merry Christmas to you, Jon,”_ she’d replied, not sure what to do as they’d stared at each other. Panic had started to flutter in her chest. She’d spied a doggy-shaped figure looking out his front window and used that to break the tension. _“Ghost waited up for you, I see. Lady will probably be wondering where I am.”_

_“Right. I’ll see you at the airport the day after tomorrow?”_

_“Bright and early.”_

He’d nodded and climbed out of her SUV before heading up his front walk alone. Should she have gotten out to walk him up? That would hardly be customary for a lady to do but she could’ve used the excuse of seeing Ghost again or something.

Instead, the moment had passed and he’d got out without kissing her goodbye. Maybe that was for the best considering they were supposedly new friends pretending to be more who’d kissed after their sisters had conspired to put them under the mistletoe earlier and nothing more right now. 

Would she be brave enough to find out this weekend what they _could_ be though?

_Once bitten, twice shy._

Actually, her heart was more than once bitten, twice shy. It felt like entire hunks of it were missing sometimes between Harry and a couple of the other guys she’d dated like him. Between them and Margaery’s treachery, she had some work to do if she was going to learn to trust someone enough for a serious relationship again assuming her and Jon ever got that far. God, that was scary.

_I have a fear, too. It’s not of flying. It’s of falling. Falling hurts. I’m tired of it hurting so much._

Would he understand? Would he keep her fear between himself and her? Would he reassure her when she was feeling small and afraid? Maybe make the falling not hurt so much anymore?

She couldn’t answer those questions right now. She had a reunion to get to.

_Breathe,_ she told herself as they prepared to disembark. She wished it was quiet so she could focus on the sound of Jon breathing.

* * *

_“What are you doing?”_

_“We were going to the movies later, you said.”_

_“Yeah, but what are you doing with my tablet?”_

_“It was in my bedroom. I was going to check showtimes on it rather than fire up my laptop since my phone’s battery is dead."_

_"Okay so when's the showing?"_

_"I don't know. I'm busy reading a fascinating twist on that show ‘Winter’s Wolves’ apparently. Except instead of medieval sword fighting and political intrigue, two of the main characters are college students forced to go on a road trip together and they’ve got to share a room...”_

_“Holy shit! Give me that!”_

_“…and there’s only one bed.” Rhaenys was not amused in the slightest when he glanced up from the screen and waggled his eyebrows at her. _

_“Shut up, Jon. I never made fun of your stupid Hedge Knight comics.” She reached for her tablet but he rolled way, laughing and enjoying his sister’s pissed expression too much. “Give it back.”_

_“There was nothing stupid about the Hedge Knight. He was a hero. And your tablet was in my room. Possession is nine-tenths of the law, counselor.”_

_“You’re being a little shit, Jon.”_

_“I’m being a little brother, Rhae. What will Alayne and…wait. Are they going to fuck in this story?”_

_“Jon…”_

_“Oh, shit! They are going to fuck! I never thought about those two fucking before.”_

_“Would you please stop saying fuck?”_

_“Why? I’m twenty-two and I’ve said it a fair few times by now.”_

_“I hear it come out of your mouth but all I can see is you at six with your dark ringlets wearing that bunny suit Grandma Rhaella made you when she came for Easter dinner."_

_"Dad paid me $5 to wear it for her."_

_"I got a box of old pictures after she died."_

_"There's pictures?! Those should've been burned after she died!"_

_"I'm not certain there are any pictures of that in my box but there could be...and I could post them online."_

_He started snickering at her attempt to blackmail the tablet away from him and that was his mistake. She moved quick as a viper and grabbed her tablet back, threatening him with bodily harm if he ever brought it up again. _

_But he did bring it up again later that night. _

_The movie had been some foreign film that Rhae had wanted to see and he’d spent his time sitting in the theater thinking about how much he enjoyed watching ‘Winter’s Wolves’ and the story, although completely different than anything that remotely related to the show was well written and involved two of his favorite characters and…well, he was used to porn being 100% visual but this sort of rang some different bells for him so to speak. _

_“Soooooo…for the sake of a hypothetical scenario in which I’m merely indulging in my curiosity…could you show me where to find that story from earlier?”_

_Rhae looked up from her tablet with a sigh. “Have you finished your homework, young man?” He flipped her off, good-naturedly of course. “Are you prepared to journey down this rabbit hole?”_

_“Huh?”_

_“I’ll just warn you. It can get addictive.”_

That had been during his first semester of law school when he’d shared an apartment with Rhae near campus. She’d been right about the addictive factor. But never had Jon imagined he might be living out his very own little fanfic fantasy...except in this instance there was nothing fictional about his growing feelings for Sansa. 

“This is it, Suite 202,” he announced, placing the keycard to the keypad to unlock their suite before he had to smother a yawn. _Damn Ambien. You would kick in after the flight was through, wouldn’t you? _

“Great. We've got some time to kill. Want to check out the room before we head back down?” she asked, brushing past him with that intoxicating blend of amber, vanilla and apricot from her perfume leaving him half spellbound. 

“Sure thing.” There might have been a slight tremble in his voice which he could not blame on flying now. “What’s the dress code for the cocktail thing later?” he asked as he was busy setting down the luggage. “I’ll change if you like.” She didn’t answer right away. He turned towards her to see what had her attention. “Whoa.”

“Yeah, the view is definitely a selling point of these suites.”

The snow-covered mountains behind the wall of glass that led to the balcony were gorgeous but it was her standing in front of it all that left him speechless. The sun was shining on all that snow right outside and it was dazzling but the way it lit her up, made her red hair glow and brightened her blue eyes? Truly awe-inspiring. 

He shook his head to clear his lovestruck thoughts and took a look around the interior. 

The suite was well-appointed and had a kitchenette, small dining table and separate vanity area outside the bathroom but it was wasn’t all that large. The bedroom (which was basically a king-size bed with a dresser and more of that wall of window) didn’t have a door. There was a partial wall between it and the living area with a see-through fireplace acting as the barrier between the two spaces. _Guess we’ll use the bathroom for changing clothes and such. _

That leather sofa didn’t look all that comfortable. He’d make do though. She was the one paying for the room, arguing that she would’ve been paying for one regardless and was just glad he’d come, so she was damn well getting the bed as far as he was concerned. He had got her to yield on the airfare saying he was getting a vacation out of it so he could at least pay for his own flight. _Look at us, being all couplish with budgeting and such._

Recalling his question, she said, "What you're wearing should be fine for the cocktail thing later. I'll change though." 

He looked down ruefully at his rumpled button-down and trousers. He'd change if she was changing. "What are you doing?" he asked as she started digging around in her bag.

"Unpacking."

"Already?"

"Yeah. I can never really relax away from home until I've unpacked and put everything in its place."

"I usually just live out of my suitcase." She didn't look all that surprised but was biting at her lip to keep from saying so, he suspected. "Well, I do like to take off my shoes and stretch out on the bed to test it out," he said before failing to stifle his latest gaping yawn. "Maybe we should check out the bed first." His jaw dropped when he realized what he'd said. "I mean...shit." _Way to sound like a presumptuous dumbass right off the bat. _ "Sansa, I didn't mean..."

"No, it's fine, Jon. You didn't catch a nap on the flight like me. Lay down. I'll put my things away while you do."

Her voice didn’t sound so steady now but maybe she was just tired. Despite her nap, she did look like someone who could use a nap, too. 

They’d met at the airport at 6AM, only to sit through a delay before they were allowed to board. The flight had not been nearly as horrifying as he’d feared though. Sansa by his side keeping up a steady stream of innocuous but engaging chatter and then focusing on her sweet little snores after she’d conked out had made their ninety-seven minutes in the air pass far more pleasantly than he’d hoped. 

_And by the way…her resting her head on my shoulder while doing so was one of the highlights of my year right after that mistletoe kiss on Christmas. _

But after that there’d been issues with retrieving their luggage in the bustling airport packed with holiday travelers. And once they’d reclaimed their bags at last, there’d been the fifty minute uber ride in a cramped compact along winding mountainous roads to their destination.

_“Guess we wouldn’t be making this trip if there was snow in the forecast,”_ he’d joked with their uber driver.

_“Oh, definitely not. As long as you folks are leaving before Monday, I’m sure you’ll be fine.”_

_“Wait…what’s happening Monday?”_

_“Big snowstorm brewing west of here. Weatherman says it’ll bounce over us which, nine times out of ten, means it’ll hit dead on.”_

_“But not until Monday, you say?”_ Sansa had asked, worriedly. 

_“Nope, not until then.” _

Pretend relationship, sharing a room, potential for getting snowed in…if this wasn't straight out of a modern AU fanfic, he didn't know what was, he thought as he laid down on the bed. It was king-sized but it must’ve been the smallest king-sized bed he’d ever encountered. Sharing this bed could get interesting if they were going to share the bed.

_Which we aren’t. At least, I don't think we are. We've not discussed it but it would be her decision._

Nevertheless, the downy comforter and pillowtop mattress were amazingly comfortable along with the excess of pillows and even if Sansa Stark were lying beside him, he might be able to get some sleep here, especially with his Ambien hitting like a ton of bricks now. 

“And there was only one bed,” he chuckled to himself, drowsily.

“Yes, and there was only one bed,” she repeated as she came back out of the bathroom. Her eyes narrowed. “Wait. Did you just…were you…Jon? _Jon, Jon, Jon??" _

The sing-song way she was saying his name should’ve warned him but his drowsy state and the grin spreading across her face had him grinning like a fool in return. She could’ve told him he’d be sleeping on the bloody balcony tonight or maybe told him to jump off of it and he would’ve in that moment. 

“Yeah?”

“Do you read fanfiction, Jon?”

“Do I what?!” he gulped, wide awake once more. _Oh shit, oh shit, oh shididdy-shit. Be cool, man! Be cool! Ah, fuck, who am I kidding?! I’m NOT cool!_

She crossed her arms over her chest and tilted her head to the side. “You heard me, I think. Answer the question.”

“I, uh…what’s a fanfic?”

“Fanfic? I believe I referred to it as fan-_fiction._” 

_Jon, you IDIOT! RED ALERT!_

She paced around the edge of the bed, drawing nearer. His pulse was thrumming. And yeah, something else might’ve twitched in response to her proximity and their location and…_goddamn, I’m not going to survive this weekend if she keeps looking at me like that! _

“Fanfic is an abbreviation that’s generally used by those who read and write fanfiction. I find it interesting that you used that abbreviation when you’re denying any knowledge of what fanfiction is.”

“Um…are you sure you didn’t attend law school at some point?”

“Oh, my God! You DO!! Say you do!”

“That’s just…that’s positively…”

She raced to the bedside table, opening the drawer and shouting, “Ah ha!” in triumph before pulling out a Bible. _Those damn Gideons._ “Now, on your oath, counselor,” she said, holding the Good Book in front of him. “Do you or do you not read fanfiction, also known as fanfic for short, in your spare time?”

He did his best to keep a straight face. “My hand’s not on it.”

“Put your hand on it.”

He couldn’t argue when she had one hand on her hip and was scowling like that. It was too adorable. He placed one hand on the Bible and scratched his beard with the other. “Who says I have any spare time for reading?” She wasn’t buying his act. The giggles were coming on in full force and he loved the sound of them far too much. “And who’s to say I wouldn’t lie to you? I _am_ an attorney.”

“You’re an honest one.”

“Most people would tell you an honest attorney is an oxymoron.”

“I don’t care what most people say. You’re you,” she said simply and he was in serious danger of falling in love with her. “And, I’ll remind you, Mr. Snow, that you’re under oath,” she finished primly. Correction, he was _already_ falling in love with her. 

“I’m under oath? Are you a judge? Is this a court of law?” 

“I’m your fake girlfriend that you’re taking a trip with and this is a real Bible. Plus, you allowed me to snore in front of you earlier so you have to answer.”

“Will I be held in contempt if I refuse?”

“Definitely. And as the woman who’s willing to let you share this bed with her for the weekend…in a purely platonic sense, of course…I think it’s in your best interest to consider your answer carefully.”

“You’d share this bed with me?” he blinked, letting the playfulness go for a moment. She was blushing. “Sansa, I wouldn’t presume to…”

“Of course, I’ll let you share the bed with me. That couch looks terrible for sleeping and we’re adults and I know I can trust you in bed.” Suddenly, her eyes were wide and the color faded from her face. “Oh, that sounded wrong somehow.” As quickly as the color had drained away, it returned, her face getting redder by the second.

He laughed. “It’s fine. I swear it didn’t sound bad to me and…thank you for you trust, Sansa.” He suspected that was a lot for her considering the things she’d shared about Harry.

“Aright, that’s decided. There’s only one bed and we’re sharing it. Now, answer my question!”

“You haven’t asked if I’m under the affect of any potentially intoxicating substances yet.” She huffed impatiently. “Because I'll admit to you, Your Honor, that I took an Ambien before the flight hoping it’d help my anxiety with flying."

"Those aren't really intoxicating, are they?"

"No, it’s just a sleep aid but it’s hitting me hard at the moment and I might later be able to argue that my judgement was impaired and I wasn’t able to answer with a clear mind or something.” Her expression was torn between one of sympathy and one of agitation. “But yes, I read fanfiction…or fanfic, if you will.”

She sat down on the edge of the bed, her smile radiant and her voice giddy when she asked, “What fandoms do you read?!”

* * *

  
He’d been stubborn but she’d got it out of him finally as they’d both laid on the bed, him getting sleepier and her feeling sleepy again as well. It was odd really. It had been a sleepless night for her and forty-five minutes during the flight wasn’t enough to make up for it but there should be so many things worrying her, little doubts and insecurities niggling at her insides like last night, shouldn't there? But with Jon, she was calm somehow. 

He’d admitted he’d liked the Hedge Knight comics as a boy and read some stuff from those. All of her siblings had read them as children, too. They were adventure tales, mostly appealing to boys or girls like Arya who dreamt of doing daring deeds. The fanfic for those weren’t anything remotely shippy from the sounds of it. Sansa had preferred the Dragonknight series for stories of courtly romance as a girl. 

_Maybe men don’t read fanfic for shippy stuff,_ she’d thought. _But there was only one bed…he knew about that trope. _

So, he’d then admitted that he’d started reading fanfic during law school, beginning with Winter’s Wolves' story and that he still read it occasionally. There were writers who enjoyed crafting stories based on the show that centered on the political dynamics or the battles, she knew. _Zzzzzzzzz!_ But most of the fanfics had a shippy element which was what drew her to them. 

_And Jon ships the same couple as me!_

_Match made in heaven, right?_

She sighed, knowing shipping preferences aside, it didn’t mean all that much beyond her knowing something else about Jon Snow and them sharing something but she was still inexplicably pleased by this.

They’d need to get ready for the cocktail thing in less than an hour. She’d want to be there early since she’d helped organize all this. Anya had already texted her earlier to ask how it was going and remind her to put 'our little company's' name out there but they’d been checking in so she’d ignored it. And she wasn’t working so she didn’t have to answer, did she? 

And right now, the issues of Harry and Margaery and her boss seemed far away and pretty inconsequential as she was lying beside a napping Jon Snow. 

She told herself it was okay to stare as he snored next to her, blissfully unaware of her staring. She'd probably drooled and snored both earlier so she could watch him sleep. They were going to share this bed all weekend so it probably wouldn't bee the last time one of them saw the other sleeping. 

There was an amazing view of the mountains if she cared to look right past his shoulder. It was breathtaking. But, in a way, he was every bit as beautiful and breathtaking as those snow-capped mountains, maybe more so. And she liked listening to his even, deep snores as her eyes grew heavier and heavier. 

She could unpack everything else later, she told herself as she stretched and yawned on top of the comforter next to him. She wanted a nap, too. Listening to his breathing, she closed her eyes and gave into it. When she woke, he was still asleep but his hand had moved. It was holding hers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I know I had them fall asleep but I really hope it wasn't boring. Next chapter, Jon gets to meet Margaery and Harry.


	5. Someone Worthy of You

As an attorney, his livelihood depended on being able to sell a certain version of the truth to people. _Well, that and bargaining, lots of bargaining…and some sucking up._ And, he was good at his job, damn good at it. 

But Jon had never considered himself much of an actor. He’d been honest when he’d told her he liked to believe what he was telling a judge and jury. The thing was though, this thing, this ‘let’s pretend we’re together’ thing, didn’t feel like acting. In fact, it wasn’t hard to fall into at all. It was scary how easy it was with her. It was scary how hard he was falling for her, too. 

_“If you really like her, don’t be afraid to make a move when the time feels right,”_ Rhae had told him.

He’d told himself back when she’d called to ask him to join her on this trip, he would show her he could be so much more than her plus one if she’d allow. This was his chance and he didn’t mean to squander it like he’d blown his first shot at asking her out on a legit date back in May.

_I really like her and I’m making a move. I just need some help with the timing which, unfortunately, is definitely not now_, Jon thought when he woke up with Sansa lying beside him.

He blinked more than once, convinced she must be a mirage. She was still there when he finished blinking. Her silky red hair was spilling across the pillowcase next to his, her features soft and relaxed in her repose. He could definitely get used to waking up next to Sansa…and staring at her. He wanted to lean forward and wake her with a gentle kiss. 

But when her eyes fluttered open, reality set in. She wasn’t his that way (not yet anyway) and they had someplace to be. 

He let her have the suite’s bathroom to change. His jaw about hit the floor when she walked out twenty minutes later. Yeah, it was black jeans and a silvery turtleneck sweater but her clothes clung to her curves just so and damn, she looked hot! He was suddenly torturing himself with an image of pulling that sweater over her head later and helping her get those skinny jeans off. 

_There’d be lots of panting and pawing to hurry the process up, too._

_Calm down, you!_

“You look really nice.”

“Thank you, Jon. I figured this was good enough for cocktails at a ski resort.”

He looked down at his wrinkled chinos and scowled. No chance to pull something fresh out and press it. He hoped she wouldn't be ashamed of him. _"Must you look like a slob?"_ was suddenly ringing in his years in a voice he knew too well. 

“I’ll be right back,” he said, quickly darting past her to brush his teeth so they could head on. If there was any call for a ‘we’re together so let’s kiss to prove it’ display, he wanted fresh breath at least. 

Granted, thirty minutes later, his fanfic fantasies were firmly on the backburner. This was it, showtime. This was Jon and Sansa, official couple, making their debut for people they weren’t related to. Damn, his stomach hurt. Maybe that was hunger but also some nerves. 

Myrcella and her husband were nice and they’d met a couple of Sansa’s other friends from Snowy Gap. Everyone was excited talking about the events that were planned and Jon had taken the opportunity to stroll around the room, take in the décor and satisfy his hunger pangs with some of the delicious catering options. No, party planning wasn’t his area but he’d been around enough of these things as a kid with his dad’s various office parties and such to know a well-planned out one when he saw it. And everything that was well-planned out had been handled by Elia. The few his dad had been in charge of had been unmitigated disasters. 

Catering an upscale event, a whole weekend of such an event, from out of town could be especially tricky. How did you know the caterers were as good as their website claimed? You never knew if you’d wind up with overdone dim sum appetizers or spongey chicken for dinner. Obviously, Sansa had done some research. 

And the ski lodge staff were all up to snuff on everything happening, down to the little itineraries they were handing out complete with scannable code for people to pull it up on their smart phones if they so chose instead of keeping up with the paper. There were an abundance of activities offered but a very clear no-pressure policy in place if some of the alumni would rather just relax and enjoy the resort without too much mixing and mingling. And for those who felt compelled to do everything, the timeline was not so strict that a person would feel they were constantly being shuffled from one thing to the next either. 

“You really put a lot of work into this, didn’t you?” 

“It wasn’t just me. Myrcella and I both worked hard on it. Hopefully, it’ll go off without too many hitches.”

“I’d be surprised if there’s any.”

“Trust me, there’s always hitches. The idea is to be prepared to roll in and sort them out before your guests even know there was ever an issue.”

“It’s like you do this for a living,” he teased, drawing forth a pleased smile.

“I do enjoy it.”

“And is Myrcella in this line of work, too?”

“No, she worked for her grandfather’s corporation out of college but hated it. She married Trystane and he suggested she stay home with their baby once he was born if she liked. She jumped at it. I’m not sure what her plans are afterwards if any.”

“You two should go into business for yourselves,” he said half to himself as they made their way to the bar. 

She seemed to be eyeing him intently when he asked if she wanted to drink. “A glass of Merlot, please.” 

He placed their order with the bartender and noticed her chewing at her bottom lip. Much as he’d like to chew on that bottom lip a bit and maybe suck on it, this was not that. Was she worrying over those inevitable hitches for this weekend? Or something else? Something in the shape of one cheating asshole of an ex-boyfriend and one so-called friend maybe? 

“Do you think I could?” she asked quietly when he passed her the wine. “That I might be good enough to do this on my own or with Myrcella if she wanted to?”

Why’d she have to look so vulnerable? God, he wanted to wrap her up in his arms and hold her all night. Who’d made her feel so vulnerable anyway? They needed their ass kicked. 

“Of course, you could, Sansa.”

“Anya always says being associated with a big name is important when it comes to event coordinating."

"Forgive me but everyone has to start out somewhere to make a name. I'm a junior partner at a big firm but maybe someday I'd like to hang out my own shingle."

She seemed to ponder that before the doubts came back. "I’d be small fry.”

“There’s no shame in being small fry. Events come in all shapes and sizes with all manner of budgets. If you love the thing, does it matter if it's $1000 a plate dinners or just a over-the-top birthday party?”

“Well, no. I'd rather attend a birthday party than those fancy dinners anyway. But what if I failed?” 

“Just like any event having its hitches, every business suffers some set-backs and yeah, sometimes they fail. You can always keep trying and if it just doesn’t pan out in the end at least you could say you tried…assuming you’d ever want to, that is.” 

He wanted to encourage her. He also thought the whole situation with her boss being the step-mother of her ex was a conflict of interest that could bite Sansa in the ass one day. If nothing else, it might be a never-ending reminder of the man who’d cheated on her with a woman she’d thought was her friend. Sansa deserved better than that. And even if she didn't want to strike out on her own anytime soon, she deserved to have her freaking reunion weekend free from officious texts from her employer. 

However, deciding that their little career talk was probably enough potentially anxiety-inducing encouragement to give her given their current whereabouts, he looked around the room and narrowed his eyes. “See them anywhere?” 

* * *

Initially, she’d been giving him the rundown of who was who during this little initial meet and greet in the resort’s cocktail longue that her and Myrcella had planned. _A Who’s Who of People I Honestly Didn’t Care If I Saw Ever Again, if you will. _

But then, he'd brought up the business idea. She kept thinking it over as she felt her cell buzz in her pocket with yet another text from Anya more than likely. _Why must you bug me now? Isn't it enough I'll be seeing your son who'll be giving you the scoop during his nightly check in? _ Yes, Harry still checked in nightly with Mommy. 

“See them anywhere?” Jon asked out of the corner of his mouth as they moved away from the bar.

“Not yet.” She took another sip of the Merlot, hoping it would calm her nerves. “They’re close though. I can sense it.”

He started snickering. “Are your Spidey senses tingling?”

“Something like that.”

She rolled her stiff neck and stifled a belated yawn before setting the wine glass down. The nap was great but she was looking forward to sleeping all night. She was looking forward to lying next to Jon again, too. 

However, at the moment, she should focus. The booze would be pouring freely all weekend and she didn’t want to start things off by making a fool of herself.

“It sounds stupid and I’m probably paranoid but I’ve become hyperaware of her presence after everything.”

He nodded. “I get that. And you said she went after your boyfriend back when you were in school, too?”

“Ugh, yes. In true frenemy style, smile in your face and stab you in the back.” Self-doubt assaulted her again without warning and she gave him a wane smile. “I suppose frenemy sounds pretty juvenile.” _You might think every bit of this is pretty juvenile though._

“No, not juvenile. I’ve encountered a few frenemies myself over the years and the whole thing with your boss complicates the situation for you.”

“Yes, it does.”

“Oh wait…is that him?”

He subtly titled his chin to indicate someone behind her, his grey eyes only flickering away from hers for a second as he sipped his drink like they were in some spy movie. It was Jack and Coke instead of a martini and he wasn’t wearing a tuxedo or carrying a license to kill but…fuck, that was sexy.

She glanced over her shoulder and sure enough, there was Harry. Still no Margaery in sight. She did enjoy being fashionably late to make an entrance but strange that she wouldn’t insist on Harry being there with her.

They must’ve arrived on an earlier flight or not taken a nap anyway because Harry was wearing a freshly pressed tailored suit. Sansa preferred Jon in his wrinkled chinos.

He’d meant to change, she knew, but their nap had lasted longer than planned. Honestly, she wished they were still laying on the bed napping. But they couldn’t and she’d yelped when she’d woke up and realized they’d overslept. He’d graciously given her all the time she wanted in the bathroom to get ready, saying he’d do his best to not embarrass her with his attire the rest of the weekend as they'd walked downstairs to the party room.

_“I’d never be embarrassed by you, Jon,”_ she’d told him.

He’d smiled though she’d sensed some skepticism. Had his ex-girlfriend ever made him feel like he was an embarrassment to her? Everyone has their bad moments and says dumb things from time to time but a lover shouldn’t make you feel that way on the regular, should they?

_What would you know? How many times did you put up with Harry’s condescending remarks and brush them aside as if they didn’t matter?_

Harry’s blond hair was slicked back the way he wore it whenever he was heading into his so-called boardroom battles. Same look applied for prep school reunions at ski resorts apparently. She could still recall the exact feeling of that sticky residue on her pillowcases. She’d hated it. She shuddered with self-loathing.

_Why do you turn the blame on yourself when it was Harry who cheated?_

_Because I wish I’d known better…or sooner anyway. Because it’d be nice to feel like I was worth some damn faithfulness. And because I wish I’d never met him to begin with._

“Yes, that’s him.”

Her stomach clenched up at the thoughts of speaking with him but she was more nervous at the thought of facing them both. She’d not faced both of them in months, not since the day they’d decided to share their joyous news with her.

“You okay?” His voice was pitched low, full of concern.

Before she could respond, she felt Jon’s warm hand at the small of her back. She shuddered again but not from any form of loathing now. Her stomach muscles were clenching up in a far more pleasant way. _More than just my stomach muscles. Holy shit, get a grip_.

“Yeah. I’ve not seen him in months and he’s just…”

“An asshole.”

She bit back a giggly snort and his eyes crinkled up at the corners in the cutest way. “You’ve not even met him yet.”

“I don’t have to meet him to know everything I need to know about a guy like him.”

The way he’d growled that with his eyes boring into Harry? That was way too fucking hot. “Yeah?”

“He cheated on you with a woman you thought was your friend. He’s dirt. He’s lower than dirt.”

He meant it, she knew. His voice was still low but his entire tone was so different than a moment ago, full of righteous anger. She was ready to swoon again. When was the last time a man had been this upset on her behalf who wasn’t related to her?_ The answer is never._

“Thank you, Jon.”

She’d whispered that but she was pretty sure he heard the vulnerability underneath given the way he wrapped his arm around her waist. "A guy like that could never be worthy of you."

His look was so intense. Harry was less than a dozen feet away but she couldn't break eye contact with Jon for anything. _Someone worthy of me? Am I worthy of you, maybe?_

Just as the intensity of his gaze was getting to be nearly too much, he released a pent up breath and asked, “Wanna avoid him for now? We’ve had a drink and said hello to some people. We could slip off if you like and deal with him at dinner later or maybe avoid them until that game night thing tomorrow.”

Oh, that was tempting. Just because she’d organized the reunion and its events with Myrcella didn’t mean she had to attend every single minute of every single function. This was her weekend, too. _No matter what Anya believes_. 

They’d had the lodge arrange for someone to pass out information and help the others know when and where everything was happening so it wasn’t as if she was on duty or anything.

And slipping off with Jon? Back to their room with only one bed?

_You’re giving me naughty ideas, sir._

“I…”

She was on the verge of saying yes but she’d deliberated a tad too long.

“Sansa, you’re actually here!” a shrill voice cried. 

She whirled to find Margaery sidling up beside her. Where had she come from? Had she been in the room all along and Sansa had somehow overlooked her?

_Not likely._

In a red Prada suit and black Louboutin’s, Margaery would’ve been hard to miss.

_Doesn’t a puff a smoke normally accompany the appearance of your kind? And, who wears heels at a ski resort?!_

Her shiny chestnut curls were artfully flowing over one shoulder and her freshly applied lipstick matched her suit. She found herself annoyed that Margaery had managed to put the ninja moves on her for this first meeting and decided this would be the only time that would happen this weekend. Only Arya was allowed to do the ninja thing to her…and Rickon when he was lucky.

Marg clasped her hands with her icy cold ones and gave her a mega-watt smile.

“Hello, Margaery. It’s…”

“I can’t believe you came! But of course, you would! You were always so good about things.” _What does that mean?_ “Ugh, the weather here is so dreadful! I’m simply chilled to the bone!” Marg continued. “I can’t believe I went to school here for four years. It’s just so cold. Terrible really. And ski resorts in late December are always so crowded, aren’t they? Why did anyone want to have the reunion here anyway?”_ Was that a dig?_ “But of course, you and Myrcella did your best and were probably thinking about the budget and I suppose it works being close to good old Snowy Gap!” _Yep, that was a dig._

“Well, it is a reunion and I thought it made sense to be in the area of the actual school where we…”

"You're so smart to dress comfortably, too. I should've packed some sweats or something like you." 

She wasn't wearing sweats, far from it. She wasn't dressed for the opera either. Sansa glanced down at her nice fitted black jeans, boots and silvery grey sweater she'd changed into after the nap. It was completely appropriate attire for a ski resort, even a cocktail hour thing, where warmth and practicality was more important than designer labels. Sure, there were people who overthought it and felt they had something to prove but her mother had taught her long ago that well-made clothes and classic styles made the right kind of statement without any need to go overboard. So, why did she suddenly feel so lacking?

"Actually, I think..." _you look like a clown in your red power suit where everyone else is in jeans, trousers and sweaters. _

“Oh, but who do we have here, Sansa?” Margaery interrupted with her eyes widening as they landed on Jon (and before Sansa could go that far with her comment, too.)

Sansa inhaled sharply as Margaery tossed her curls from one shoulder to the other. She’d seen Margaery in action enough by now to recognize the signs. Her eyes flitted up and down Jon’s frame before landing on his face. Her mega-watt smile changed into something a little more subtle and yet not subtle at all. She liked the packaging at the very least.

_Remember, she's like a dog or bee. She can smell fear. Don’t stutter, don’t stutter, don’t stutter…_

“Jon, this is my old friend from school, Margaery Tyrell. Margaery, this is Jon Snow. He’s my boyfriend.”

_Holy shit, I didn’t stutter at all! That rolled right off the tongue! Jon Snow, he’s my boyfriend! Has a nice ring to it, doesn’t it?_

“Enchanté,” she purred, extending her hand towards Jon to shake…or kiss maybe.

_Enchanté? Are you related to Pepé Le Pew?_

Jon was staring at Margaery’s hand, limply offered, palm down. She’d filled him in enough to know he probably didn’t have any higher of an opinion of Margaery than he did Harry but would meeting her in the flesh change that? Would her words sound shrewish to him in hindsight? So many men seemed dazzled by Margaery’s looks, bright smiles and vivacity. Hell, Sansa’s first and last boyfriend had been won away from her by Marg.

_Not really. You’d already called quits with Joffrey. Neither of them were worth your time anyway. Just…don’t freak out._

It was hard though. It’s a major blow to the ego having the man you’re involved with up and prefer another woman to you especially when you introduced them.

At last, Jon moved to shake her hand, a perfunctory shake and a nod. “Jon Snow,” he said curtly and the corners of Sansa’s mouth twitched upward.

Raising her voice, Margaery started gesturing across the room. “Harry! Harry, come here and look who it is! Sansa came! You can tell your mother she made it after all! She’s just not returned her messages!”

_What in the ever-loving fuck?_

* * *

Sansa Stark was something else, Jon told himself for the hundredth time as they talked and covertly scanned the room like some undercover agents on the lookout for her nemesis. She was witty and engaging, sweet and personable in addition to being a beautiful woman. Why would any man who was involved with her do what Harry did? Admittedly, he could ask that same question of his father and every single other man out there who’d ever thought maybe the grass was greener (or the pussy sweeter) on the other side. He _hated_ men who thought that way.

Margaery, the frenemy, was one thing. He wouldn't be outright rude to her. Being rude that way to a woman wasn't his style. Hardyng however? _Oh, yeah...time to be an asshole to the asshole_. It's not like it was a role he relished or anything. _Well, maybe a little_. And while Margaery had reportedly thrown herself at Sansa's man (and God, did Jon never want to think of that guy as Sansa's man ever again), it was Harry who'd chose to act on what was offered. If anyone here deserved a comeuppance in Jon's opinion, it was Harry. 

“Oh, but who do we have here, Sansa?” the frenemy asked.

He heard Sansa’s sharp inhale and worried how painful this might be for her. Old school chums certainly have a way of digging at a person's insecurities in a way few people outside of family can. 

Margaery Tyrell’s family was well known. He’d seen her picture in the society column often enough when he’d bothered to look over the years. It was necessary sometimes to know the players when it came to courtroom drama and, no matter how they pretended otherwise, even people like the Tyrells got sucked into courtroom drama upon occasion.

He looked her up and down just as she did him but he did not wear a matching look of interest. Overdressed for the occasion and trying too hard. Old money but still acting like new. He'd went to law school with the sort of Ivy League schmucks she'd probably serial dated until Harry came along, most of whom were a lot like Harry, no doubt. 

She was a beautiful woman…on the outside anyway. But she did nothing for him personally, especially knowing how she’d apparently gone after not only Harry but also Sansa’s first boyfriend. And why? That was a good question, one he’d like to figure out. 

“Jon, this is my old friend from school, Margaery Tyrell. Margaery, this is Jon Snow. He’s my boyfriend.” 

_Holy shit, did you hear the way she called me her boyfriend?! Damn straight, sweetheart! I’m your boyfriend this weekend and I’d love to be your boyfriend for real and for always!_

“Enchanté,” she purred, extending her hand towards Jon to shake…or as if she expected him to kiss it maybe.

_Enchanté? Who even says that?_

Nevertheless, his mother had raised him to be a gentleman and been somewhat successful at that. He would not leave a lady’s extended hand hanging indefinitely. “Jon Snow,” he said curtly as he shook her hand at last. He did not miss the way the corners of Sansa’s mouth twitched upward. Alright, she _had_ just said his name. He probably should’ve said ‘nice to meet you’ or some such drivel. _But it’s not nice to meet her!_

Before he could say anything more though, Margaery was hallooing across the room. “Harry! Harry, come here and look who it is! Sansa came! You can tell your mother she made it after all! She’s just not returned her messages!”

_Welp, time to roll up the sleeves and be a dick then. _ Who the fuck did these people think they were?

* * *

  
  
She stood there with her mouth agape at how easily the snark seemed to flow from Jon, her eyes widening with every verbal slap. He reined it in with Margaery but Harry got both canons full-blast whenever he allowed him an opening right from the start. It was so wrong of her to be turned on by that…but she was. 

“New beau already, Sans? Good for you,” Harry said patronizingly. Ugh, she hated him. He gave Jon the same up and down look as Margaery had. Well, not exactly the same as he didn’t seem so keen on the very nice package that met his eyes. “So what do you do for a living, Jon?” Harry asked, right before wincing as Jon shook his hand. 

He polished off his drink and set it down before answering the question. “I’m an attorney actually.”

“Attorney, huh?” Harry said, subtly wringing his hand. “Sure you’re not a personal trainer with that grip?" Jon shrugged with perfectly feigned innocence. "But, you know what they say about lawyers, right? Better watch him, Sans,” Harry smirked. “Hey, I got a joke for you, Jon.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“How does an attorney sleep?”

“I don’t know, Harry, how does an attorney sleep?” 

“Harry…” 

“First he _lies_ on one side and then he _lies_ on the other! Ha Ha!” Harry brayed with laughter at his lame old joke, covering Margaery’s Prada-covered shoulder with spittle when he turned her way. "Did you get it, babe?"

_Did she get it? Is she supposed to be an idiot? Speaking of which, I’ve got a joke for you, too. Can I get a lobotomy to remove the part of my brain that recalls everything about you? _

“That’s a good one, Harry,” Jon replied, completely unfazed. “Never have I ever heard that tired old joke before.”

“Seriously?” 

“Uh huh. That’s precisely why I called it a tired old joke and had my fingers crossed behind my back.” She could see Harry’s brow furrow as he tried to decipher the sarcasm.

“Oh yeah, we’re all a bunch of liars,” Jon said as he slipped his arm around her waist, nice and low. _Hello!_ “I mean, her brother’s an attorney and he’s…well, he’s one of the most decent men I’ve ever met. And my sister’s one but…well, maybe we should stop making jokes,” he finished darkly as he cracked his knuckles.

Harry visibly gulped and Sansa was enjoying this far too much. 

“But Sansa’s familiar with liars, I’d say." He gave them both a pointed look before smiling and carrying on. "...and I had to do something for a living, didn’t I? It’s not like I can live off Mommy and Daddy’s money. What is it you do, Harry?”

“I, uh…help my mother manage some of her holdings.”

“She put him on the board of one of her smaller businesses, too,” Sansa supplied helpfully. “Said they needed a warm body, didn’t she, Harry?”

“Aw, that’s sweet,” Jon said in a tone every bit as patronizing as the one Harry had given her earlier. “Hey Margaery, have you ever heard the one about why a lady shouldn’t date a mama’s boy?”

_Oh, shots fired. _

“Because you'll always be the side chick,” Margaery answered sourly. Interestingly enough, her sour look was aimed at Harry more than Jon. _Well, he is. _

“Now, I’m just messing with you, Harry,” Jon said next with a good-natured chug on the shoulder when Harry’s puzzled amusement started to fade. “I’m a mama’s boy, too, in a way. My mother's a great lady and I love her to bits but I won’t be checking in later after hours or anything, if you get me. Actually, we were sleeping pretty well before we came down here, weren’t we, Sansa?”

“We needed to test out the bed, you said,” she admitted, her cheeks flushing when she realized how that came out. _ Oh, shit._ Margaery’s smile faltered and Harry's mouth fell open. _I mean…well played, me!_

“Sure did. We’ve got a date with that fireplace in our suite later, don’t we?” 

He turned towards her, pulling her up against him so his warm breath was on her cheek. She played along, snuggling close. This would be _way_ too easy to get used to. His cologne was lightly filling her nostrils, teasing her. His eyes were mesmerizing as he smiled at her. She couldn’t help letting her own eyes flit to those lips she’d not kissed since Christmas. Damn, she wanted him to kiss her again. She was more than ready for that date by the fireplace with Jon later even if it was just in her imagination. 

It was only someone clearing their throat that reminded her they weren’t alone. 

“Sure do,” she sighed before the little ‘friendly’ discussion continued. 

She envied Jon's snarkiness. She rarely seemed to come up with the right thing to say in such a situation at the right time.

_Such a situation? How often are you confronted with this sort of situation?!_

She might almost feel sorry for Harry. _I mean, a battle of wits against an unarmed person is just sad._

Okay, Harry wasn’t stupid exactly. He was ready enough with his own barbs, seeking chinks in the armor. Unfortunately for Harry, they all fell flat with Jon. Either he had some very thick skin or he was good at pretending he did. 

“Where’d you go to undergrad, Jon?”

“Castle Black.”

“Aw, the state school, huh? Kind of in a rough area of the city, isn’t it? Lots of scholarship kids there, too.” 

Sansa cringed. Jon had shared that over lunch one day and she didn't remotely think there was anything wrong with a guy who didn't go to some fancy school or if he'd needed help paying for college either but would that bother Jon here amongst the hoity-toity prep school crowd? 

“Yeah, I was one of them. I liked it alright.” _Completely undisturbed by Harry's attempt then._

“I guess a place like Snowy Gap would seem pretty pretentious to your kind. Not that Sansa's a snob really.”

_Your kind? Oh, who’s the fucking snob here, Harry?_

“I don’t know,” Jon shrugged before putting his arm around her waist again and kissing her temple. “Sansa went there and, while she’s a lady through and through, she’s also one of the warmest, most open-hearted people I’ve ever met so it can’t be all bad.”

“Oh, she is!” Margaery interjected, no doubt wanting to put an end to this little pissing contest where her man was coming off rather badly. “Speaking of which, Sansa, I know you and Myrcella-”

Whatever Margaery wanted to say of her and Myrcella, Harry wasn’t done. “You do much skiing up at Castle Black, Jon?”

“None whatsoever."

"But you have skied, right?"

"I’ve gone once. I’ll give it another go this weekend if Sansa likes.”

"What kind of skis did you bring?"

"None," he laughed. "I don't own any skis. I'll use whatever they rent people here."

Despite Jon's complete refusal to rise to the bait, Harry seemed to swell with every imagined point won. “Right. I’ll see you out there tomorrow then. Maybe I’ll give you some pointers,” he finished in typical condescending fashion. 

“Sure, Harry. Sansa promised to keep me on the bunny slopes but pointers would be welcome.”

“Bunny slopes?” Harry chortled. “I’ve not done the bunny slopes since I was six or seven.”

“Harry skied semi-professionally after college, didn’t you, babe?” Margaery added. 

“Yep.”

“That’s amazing, Harry,” Jon said with mock enthusiasm. “I didn’t know there was _semi_-pro skiing.” 

Harry really should’ve been wary by now but he preened like a peacock at once. “Well, it was more of a thing I did with my friends, traveling around to the various resort places like this and joining amateur competitions and…”

“For money?”

“Mostly, bragging rights but…”

“Dad and Mom foot the bill for all that?” Before Harry could answer, Jon started humming 'Glory days.'

_'They’ll pass you by, in the wink of a young girl’s eye,'_ Sansa thought, doing her best not to laugh. 

“Jon, I see Myrcella waving at me and should go check on things. We’ll see you both later, I guess,” she told Harry and Margaery. She could barely contain herself until they were out of earshot. “I can’t believe you.”

His grin was smug and infectious. “Was I the _worst_ sort of ass?”

“Not at all. You were the perfect ass as far as I was concerned.” _You’ve got the perfect ass, too._ “You were politely impolite.” 

“I was totally polite,” he argued and she couldn’t help laughing now.

“So, 'you’re the idiot I have to thank for letting this beautiful woman go’ is your idea of a polite conversation starter?”

“Sure is,” he laughed, ducking his chin in the sweetest way as he put his arm around her again. “That was all the politeness he deserved…or her for that matter.” 

“Jon, you’re…”

“I’m what?” he asked, looking less certain now. “I know I was a dick, Sansa. I meant to be but I'm sorry if I offended you. I’ll go apologize if you like.”

“Don’t you dare. I'm not sure how things will go the rest of the weekend with those two but you made quite an impression and you made me laugh. I’ve not laughed like that in…well, you make me laugh.” 

“I like making you laugh.” She felt herself flushing as he stared at her again. “Did you know you’re beautiful when you laugh, Sansa Stark?”

“How much have you had to drink?” she asked playfully, afraid of letting that compliment go to her head. 

“One Jack and Coke, not nearly enough to deal with too much of those two. But seriously, Sansa…you’re beautiful.” 

“Jon Snow, you’re smoother than I thought.”

“Don’t tell anyone. It’ll ruin my reputation.” 

She laughed again and looked back over her shoulder at where they’d left Margaery and Harry seething beneath their fake-ass smiles. She was very pleased when she saw they were still watching them. 

But she felt Jon tense up and turned her gaze back to him. Did he think she only cared about the show they were putting on? Did he think he was nothing but an ego-boost for her? 

Suddenly, she was embarrassed again by this whole situation. Why hadn’t she told him she liked him by now as more than a fake boyfriend/convenient plus one? “Jon, I can’t thank you enough for...” 

“Look at me, Sansa.” She couldn’t seem to look higher than his chest. His voice was husky, a mere rasp that made the hair on the back of her neck raise. “Look me in the eye, sweetheart.” 

_Sweetheart? Oh dear._ But she was looking. She couldn’t look away from those grey eyes so dark they were nearly black right now. 

“I meant every word I said about them and to you. You’re beautiful, inside and out, and he’s an idiot. You deserve someone worthy of you. If you were ever…” He scratched at the back of his neck, bashfully. “If a man had a woman like you, he’d be a fool to ever let her go.”

_I’d be yours if you wanted me to be._ Her heart was aching at the sweetness of his words. Her panties were in serious danger of a drenching from his voice and heated gaze.

“May I kiss you? Here?” She swallowed hard and looked around them, feeling immediately short of breath. He seemed to give himself a shake before his tone became much lighter. “I mean, do you think I should kiss you? Let them see how ridiculously happy we are?”

_Of course. We're pretending. This is just a performance, isn't it? _ She wasn't sure now but she did know the sweet ache from earlier had twisted into something less pleasant. She could be ridiculously happy with him...if this were real. 

All the same, she wanted his kiss. Why shouldn’t they kiss? It wasn’t unheard of for couples to kiss at something like this. _Just a peck and…_

“You can kiss me,” she whispered, knowing she wanted more than a peck.

“Thank you,” he murmured reverently like she'd just saved his life with those four words. How could she _help_ falling for him when he was so lovely? 

And when his fingers sank into her hair at the base of her skull, tilting her head back enough that her mouth was parted for him and only him, his kiss was nothing like a peck.

Full of fiery heat and desire, it seared her, the press of his lips literally leaving her quaking in her boots. He groaned when she wrapped her arms around his neck and angled her head so he could deepen the kiss if he wished. He obliged her and she no longer cared where they were or what was real and what was not. 

Her body was rapidly responding to that kiss in the most eager and desperate fashion. She was afraid he’d know it somehow. She closed her eyes tighter, not wanting to think too hard anytime soon. 

“I swear you two are just like newlyweds,” a feminine voice was giggling behind them.

Jon pulled back quickly, ending the kiss far sooner than she’d wanted. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath as that quiver of longing shot through her entire body again with one word. _Panties officially ruined. What a shame. _

It was Myrcella who was behind them with Trystane. Harry and Margaery were nowhere in sight. _Thoroughly vanquished._ But it felt like a hollow victory if that kiss wasn’t real. Plus, she knew Margaery well enough to be on the lookout. 

“I’m very sorry to interrupt you two..." Myrcella was saying._ Yeah, me, too Bad timing, Cella_. "...but I wanted to ask Sansa a thing or two about the game night we’ve got planned tomorrow night after skiing if that's alright, Jon. Maybe we could grab a table all together? Trystane, would you and Jon want to go fetch some drinks?”

"Sure, darling." 

“Yeah, uh…game night. Wouldn’t miss it,” Jon said with a hitch in his voice. “I’m gonna…I was going to get another drink anyway. Want another glass of Merlot, Sansa?”

“Yes, please.” 

She sighed as he walked away a touch stiffly. Myrcella grasped her hands, giggling about how happy she was for her to have found a man like Jon and that Harry and Margaery deserved each other. 

“I'm so glad to see you with a guy really worthy of you, Sansa!"

"Worthy of me..." she repeated wistfully. _Oh, Cella, I hope so. I hope I'm worthy of him, too._

"You two make such an adorable couple!”

“Do we?” 

_We do, don’t we? Now if we could just make it real…_

* * *

Walking with a semi through a crowded room and trying to be nonchalant about it was not the easiest thing in the world. Walking away from Sansa when he'd have preferred to beat his chest, throw her over his shoulder and head straight to their suite after that kiss was far harder. 

_Don't say harder...Christ._

"How long have you two been together, Jon?" Trystane asked affably as they reached the bar at last.

"Uh...since May." They'd agreed on that. It was just easier to pretend they'd been together since she'd been his last minute date to a wedding and they'd hit things off so famously. 

"Well, I'm happy for you both. Cella's always wanted Sansa to find a good guy." 

"Yeah, she's amazing. It's been something special already." _Even though it's been about three weeks...and three days since our first kiss. Oh, and there was that kiss she gave me the night we met but I won't count that since I was too busy being a dipshit and..._

"So, if I'm not being too forward, when are you planning to pop the question?" Trystane asked as their drinks appeared.

His eyes boggled but he didn't exactly faint dead away either. "Uhhhh..." He tossed back his drink and asked the bartender for another. "Um...as soon as possible." 

"Excellent." 

_There's just one little hitch. I've got to tell her I'm in love with her first. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’re just going to pretend Myrcella’s husband’s last name is Sand or something since all these families are interconnected 🤷♀️.
> 
> Next chapter, we'll have Jon and Sansa spend their first night together and then someone might have a rough day on the slopes :)
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


	6. Hot-Blooded & Hot Cocoa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fire, hot cocoa, cuddling...and a few tears.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Dena, for the beautiful header!!

[ ](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard#)

Jon stepped out on the balcony of the suite, watching the scattered flakes drifting down past the railing and reliving the kiss he’d given Sansa hours earlier for the thousandth time already. The cold, biting air was refreshing to the feverish twirl of thoughts racing through his brain as he tried to remind himself once more that this was all for show.

Or was it?

She’d seemed as affected by the kiss as he had been prior to her friend’s interruption. Either way, he’d made a move after making his contempt for Harry known in most civilly uncivil manner he could manage short of one of them throwing a glove in the other man's face and agreeing to meet at dawn. 

The point was, he'd made a move and Sansa had not seemed unmoved by it. 

_ *ping*_

He shook his head, smiling as he fished his phone out of his pocket. She did seem to have a sixth sense sometimes.

**Rhae: How’s it going in the room with only one bed? 😉**

**Rhae: Don’t answer this if you’re busy!**

**Rhae: Obviously**

**Rhae: B/c your my lil bro and that'd be weird if you were and**

**Rhae: But how is it going??**

**Jon: Not busy. Sansa’s getting ready for bed.**

**Rhae: 👀👀👀**

**Jon: Go read some fanfic, pest.**

**Rhae: You’re the pest! And kiss her dizzy before bedtime!**

**Jon: ...**

_ Already did that but I'd like to some more_

He shook his head and deleted that. God, he’d like to kiss her dizzy again. Meanwhile, much as he loved and trusted his sister, he was not about to share any details with her via text when this was all still so tenuous.

**Jon: Goodnight!**

**Rhae: ...**

He was turning the ringer off and pocketing his phone again when he heard her voice. 

“Hey.”

He turned to find Sansa standing at the balcony door. She was wearing red and green plaid flannel pajamas and slipper socks. The whole look was adorably soft and approachable. He wanted to cuddle the fuck out of her in it. 

_Cuddle the fuck out of her? That’s a new one._

_Hey, I have needs, too. I could use some cuddling._

Ygritte hadn’t been big on cuddling but maybe that was his fault, too. Things between them had run hot and cold. She’d often accused him of being cool towards her. He probably had been but, between her ridiculing him in the name of joking around and her fiery temper, he'd turned to his preferred defense mechanisms, aloof indifference and emotional withdrawal. Needless to say, it hadn't taken long for the ‘honeymoon’ phase of their relationship to fizzle. 

And then when she did manage to get him riled up enough for them to fight, it was kerosene and matches, a toxic cycle. _Scream at each other all evening and then loud, voracious 'make-up' fucking afterwards followed by terse, chilly greetings come morning with a side of despair. Then, repeat. And repeat, and repeat, and repeat..._

Ghost was his cuddle buddy some nights but his dog couldn’t offer him everything he craved. So yeah, he wanted to cuddle with Sansa (among other things) and she seemed like the sort of woman who might be in favor of some cuddling with the right man. 

The lamplight from within the suite illuminated her from behind making her hair which was all brushed out and hanging loose resemble living flames. 

_But much more touchable. _

He would know. He’d had his hand in it earlier during that kiss and he wouldn’t be forgetting the silky cool feel of it slipping between his fingers anytime soon. _As in never._

“Hey,” he replied, an enormous smile already blooming on his face and in his heart. 

He’d been told by more than one person around the office and the courthouse that he often wore a serious expression, bordering on dour even. He’d even been told it made him seem icy and forbidding to those who didn’t know him. _Or maybe girlfriends too based on Ygritte,_ he thought ruefully. 

If they could see him around Sansa though, would they still say that? He didn’t think so. They’d probably wonder what was up with Jon Snow. Why was this guy constantly grinning? His cheeks hurt from smiling so much around her. 

Or they’d all just know what was up like Myrcella’s husband apparently had despite not having all the facts.

“It’s cold out here.” She hugged herself and shivered for emphasis.

“Yeah but it’s beautiful.” 

He reached for her hand and a jolt of affection coursed through him when she gave it to him. He gave a tug and pulled her out the three paces to where he stood by the railing. She shivered again and he took that as a perfectly plausible reason to wrap an arm around her. She leaned into him and he inhaled deeply, relishing the vanilla and almond-scented lotion she’d applied during her sojourn to the bathroom to get ready for bed. 

“It is truly beautiful,” she agreed once her eyes had adjusted enough to pick out the snow covered mountains beneath the clouds in the dark. 

_So are you._

“Do you want me to start a fire?” She tipped her head back to look him in the eye, her expression curious. “I know I said something about a date with the fireplace in front of Margaery and Harry but it would be cozy, don’t you think? Obviously, they don’t have to know what we do in front of that fire but, uh…I figured it is cold out here and…” God, he was a babbling fool.

But Sansa didn’t seem to think he was. Her eyes were tender when she answered. “I’d love a fire, a perfect way to cap off the day in my opinion. I spied something down in the lobby shop after dinner that I think will go well with it.”

_Something in the lobby shop to go with a fire? Is it sexy lingerie? Are you wearing something naughty under those jammies? Is this all my fanfic dreams come to life? _

_BEHAVE, YOU!_

_Hey, a guy can dream, okay?_

“I can’t wait to see what it is,” he told her, managing to sound almost normal despite his hormones suddenly raging like he was fourteen again.

“You start the fire and go get comfortable. I’ll be working on my surprise while you’re in there.”

Releasing his hold on her, they went back inside as she drifted into the bedroom area and then to the kitchenette. 

Starting the fire was no big deal as it turned out. Just the twist of a knob for the gas and the push of a button to ignite it, a far cry from rubbing sticks and stones together. 

_*Whoosh!*_ Instant Romantic Ambience. The Primitive Man within grunted in satisfaction at his accomplishment. _Me make fire. Me woo woman._

He bit his lip to keep from chuckling at his own ridiculousness before heading into the bathroom to change into his sleeping clothes. When he came back out, Sansa was already nestled on the sofa, her slipper socks resting on the little coffee table and two mugs in front of her.

“Ta-da! Hot cocoa! I hope you like it.”

Her triumphant grin was irresistible. She was irresistible. Then, she went and started biting at her lip and looking unsure as he stood there with his damn mouth agape, bowled over by her combining two packets of cocoa mix with hot water from the room’s coffee machine in mugs. _Woman make food._

“I love it.” _Me in love._

The grin reasserted itself and she patted the space next to her on the sofa. 

_Hot cocoa, fireplace, gentle snowfall outside, snuggled together in a picturesque ski lodge…and there’s only one bed. _

Damn, he was living the dream! 

* * *

She’d hid out in the bathroom long enough. No matter how hard she stared at herself in the mirror, the flannel PJs her mother had given her two Christmases ago were never going to be remotely sexy. That was okay. Of course, it was. Wasn’t it enough that they, a man and a woman who were friends at most, were sharing this room and the bed?

She hadn’t chosen the flannel PJs for sexiness back when she’d been agonizing over what to pack and sharing the suite with Jon. There’d been zero cause to do so (even if there was a thirsty woman within who might like for there to be.) 

She’d been thinking about being warm and comfortable for bedtime…and modesty. 

_But maybe not this modest,_ she thought with a sigh as she looked back down again. 

She had brought some thermal undergarments for skiing which could pass as bedtime clothes. They were more silky to the touch and she’d slept in them comfortably in the past but they were also much more form-fitting and solid white, thus a touch see-through. _I mean, he’s gentlemanly. He’d probably do his best to not blatantly stare at my areolas, right?_

She shook her head and finished brushing her hair. The flannels, it would be.

But honestly, once she was snuggled up beside Jon several minutes later, on the sofa and sipping hot cocoa while laughing together over their evening, she wasn’t worrying over her less-than-stunning sleepwear. She felt at ease in her flannels and at ease with him. 

_Well, not totally._

_"Do you want me to start a fire?"_

_Yes, I do. I want romance and passion. I want caring and tenderness. I want all of it. I want something real. I want it with you. _

That kiss kept creeping into her thoughts. That kiss was going to be staying with her a good long while. _Try forever_. The one at her parents’ house on Christmas Day had given her a taste but this kiss blew past that one on the hotness meter. She wanted some more kissing like that. 

_Jack and Coke flavoring his tongue earlier and now hot cocoa. _

And damn, he was hot. How could a guy look that hot in longue pants and a t-shirt? And that t-shirt was just tight enough to confirm hours spent at the gym in his free time. _ Mercy, mercy me._

“Do you normally sleep in those?” she asked at one point when a longer silence and a little awkwardness started to creep into their pajama party. 

“I’m sorry, what?”

Apparently, he’d been absorbed in his own thoughts as he’d stared at the fire. She repeated her question.

“No, I don’t typically wear pajamas.” 

Her eyebrows crept up towards her hairline. _Oh boy, oh boy, oh boy. You're giving a girl impure thoughts now, Mr. Snow. _

“Shit, that came out wrong. I wear boxers most of the time. I don’t sleep naked…normally.”

_Most of the time? Normally?! Would you care to elaborate for the jury, counselor? _

His cheeks were turning pink. It was the sweetest thing really. “I…usually just, um…this is damn fine cocoa, Sansa.” 

He started chuckling and she couldn’t blame him. She joined him. It was a personal sort of thing for her to ask but she liked learning more about him. She liked sharing things with him, too. 

Unable to stop herself, the words spilled out. “Don’t you get cold in bed? When you’re…” Now, she was surely blushing. “When you’re just wearing that and alone.” 

“No, my mom always said I ran hot-blooded as a kid. I’d wear shorts in winter and such. I guess that’s not changed.”

He was grinning at her and his eyes flashed. ‘_Well, I’m hot-blooded, check it and see…I got a fever of a hundred and three….’_

She shifted subtly, wishing to relieve a certain ache. She could feel her throat and chest heating up to match her cheeks. “I, uh…hope you’ll be comfortable tonight…with me.” _ If you get too hot under the covers, I wouldn’t complain if you want to shed those pants._

“I plan on it.” 

Holy fuck, the way his voice dipped real low there?! How in the fuckity-fuck was she supposed to sit here innocently sipping hot cocoa when he talked like that, all husky and feral and…FUCK?!

“I mean, it’s been a long day and we’re both beat and…yeah,” he rambled the next second. 

She was human and somewhere deep down, there was a hot-blooded woman inside of Sansa Stark. _A hot-blooded woman who wants this man._

“What about you?”

“Sometimes these, sometimes something lighter. Depends on the weather and if Lady’s with me,” she replied evasively. The skimpier nighties and sleep shorts she wore outside of wintertime were sexier but she’d not packed those for this trip. She had seen something rather fetching in the lobby shop, a pleated satin baby doll in a peachy pink with a matching thong. 

_In case you want to start a fire of your own. You could always…_

_You’re not here for that! _

_Or am I? Modern AU head canon time-what would Alayne wear to bed with Christopher in this situation?_

_Get your mind off fanfic, girl._

_They had it in my size. Just saying..._

His eyes swept up and down her but briefly. If he was trying to picture her in something racier, he was subtle. 

“This is damn fine cocoa,” he said again the next minute. 

Was he bored by the topic? No, his lips were twitching like he was on the cusp of chuckling again. Was he was uncomfortable with the topic maybe? And in a good way or a bad way? 

Taking his lead, she tried to think of something else to say. 

They’d run into Harry and Margaery again briefly during dinner in the lodge’s banquet hall. Harry had started peppering her with questions about her work while Margaery had been probing Jon with questions about college and the law firm where he worked. 

Turning away from Margaery (as if she’d interested him about as much as a discarded nickel on the sidewalk), Jon had broken into the inquisition to rescue her. 

_“Hey, Harry? I know your mommy wants regular updates about this shindig and all…and sidebar, what did you guys do after they cut the cord and before mobile phone service was so widespread? Must’ve been rough.”_

Harry’s mouth had drawn up into a displeased pucker. It hadn’t stopped Jon. 

_“Anyway, you’re a dutiful son to ignore your fiancée this much to get the 4-1-1 on the reunion guests and their party-planning needs for mom but Sansa texted her before dinner and I’m sure they can manage some one-on-one communication if necessary without you being their little go-between.”_

Harry’s fists had been clenched by that point. It still hadn’t stopped Jon. He'd looped an arm around her. 

_“I mean, I don’t know about you but I’ve got a beautiful woman by my side, one only an idiot would take for granted, and we’re here to enjoy ourselves, aren’t we, sweetheart?”_ he’d said, nuzzling into her neck before steering her to the table where Myrcella and Trystane had been sitting. 

(Incidentally, she wasn’t sure whether the neck nuzzle or him calling her sweetheart had left her more weak in the knees.) 

“I have to say again that I was impressed with how you handled Harry tonight. I appreciated it, too.” 

“You appreciate me being an asshole?”

“You’re not an asshole.”

“Are you sure? It seemed to come pretty naturally for me with him.”

“He deserves it.”

“He does but I’ve been told I’m a cold-hearted bastard once or twice…by the woman sleeping with me, no less.” He playfully clinked his mug against her own but it didn’t hide the bitterness in those words. “Let’s hope you don’t wind up thinking the same.”

“I wouldn’t and you’re not,” she whispered, willing him to hear the truth in her words. 

He looked bashful as he met her eyes again. “Thank you, Sansa. I do have my moments but I don’t try and go out of my way to be a prick or anything.”

“You’re not a prick. You were perfect. I was envious to be honest.”

“Oh yeah?”

“It’s not like I can’t say things like that. I grew up with four siblings and attended an all-girls school. I’ve had my Snark-shine moments.”

“Snark-shine moments?” he asked, clearly amused. 

She nodded and soon they were both laughing together again. _And snuggling a bit closer._ This was lovely. She laid her head on his shoulder, stifling a yawn.

“Snark-shine,” he repeated once more, wiping at his eyes as he set his mug back down. “I like that and I’d love to see a couple of those moments for you before this weekend’s done.”

“Oh, I don’t know. When it comes to things like this, with two people who have hurt me and rattled my confidence, I seem to clam up, draw a blank. It’s very frustrating to not be able to just…tell them off, you know?”

“I’m sorry.”

“Especially when I’ve been on the receiving end of more than one taunt from…never mind.”

He sat up straighter. “What kind of taunts?”

“Just stuff. You know. Are you finished with that?” she asked quickly, peering at his empty mug. 

She made to lean forward as if she was going to tidy up. He wasn’t having it. He tentatively placed his hand on her knee but it was enough to keep her rooted to the sofa. 

“Are we talking about Margaery or Harry?”

She could tell the answer very much mattered to him. Margaery’s poison darts stung but Margaery hadn’t been her lover. 

“Ha-harry.” She could hardly say his name. 

“What did he say to you?”

“Just…” _stuff. _

She couldn’t finish with the same lame answer. She sucked in a gasping sort of breath to brace herself. Jon was kind. He wouldn’t laugh. So, why were her eyes starting to well up? 

“‘Stark, the name fits.’”

“Huh?”

“That’s what he told me…when I first confronted him with the cheating…before they announced they were engaged.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He said my last name suited me well and that sometimes a hot-blooded guy needed a woman to have a little more spice if she wanted to keep him invested. ‘Stark, the name fits.’ He went on to define it. Austere, sharp, barren, arid, vacant, severe, cold, unfeeling…”

“Sansa, stop.” 

Too late. She could feel the first hot teardrop rolling down her cheek. 

Even now, she could recall that particular gut-punch with perfect clarity. Of all the cutting things he’d said during the course of their relationship, that had been the thing that had stuck with her, that nasty suggestion that maybe it wasn’t so much about Margaery for him but rather that she’d not been enough, that she was to blame for his roving eye somehow.

Jon’s face was all blurry and, when she realized why, she was horrified. She was really crying, all set to sob her little eyes out. She’d shared things with him about Harry but not this. She’d not cried on him before and why would she? Men hated that. He’d be kind about it she figured but they all hated that, didn’t they? 

Now, he would likely start counting down the hours until he could return home and get away from this stupid emotional woman who had to beg a near stranger to be her fake boyfriend and who was apparently a limp fish in the bedroom and…

“Sansa…he was so wrong.” She’d closed her eyes a few seconds ago but could feel his hands on her face, his thumbs swiping away her tears. 

“I’m so sorry to cry,” she squeaked, her voice horribly high-pitched and broken sounding. “We were having a good time and I’ve ruined it.”

“You’ve not ruined a thing.” He kissed her forehead and then encouraged her to nestle up against him. “This has been a very long day for us both but all the emotional toil's been on you. You’ve had to deal with the bulk of the nerves and you were the one who was hurt and had to face them again. I should’ve realized and taken better care of you.”

“You’ve taken the best care of me, Jon. You’ve been wonderful.”

He didn’t reply. He was still raining soft kisses down on her forehead, on her temple, on the tip of her nose that was in danger of dripping soon. He kissed her lips gently just once even and she was tempted to chase his lips and beg for another. 

“I’m going to take care of you the rest of this weekend and help you forget him and his cruel lies.”

“How do you know he was lying about me?”

“I just do.” He brushed the last of her tears away. “I was far too kind to him earlier.”

“Too kind?”

“Uh huh. I should’ve challenged him to duel, me versus him. There’s always game night tomorrow after skiing tomorrow.”

She snorted. “A duel at game night? Going to see which man's best at Yahtzee? Clue? Parcheesi?”

“No, Trivial Pursuit, sweetheart. I’ll mop the floor with his ass.”

“How very romantic,” she said, giggling. 

“What can I say? I’ve read a lot of fanfic.”

* * *

She was snoring softly on his shoulder and his eyelids were starting to droop despite his rather strong urge to go find Harry for a duel that didn’t involve boardgames. 

_Been ages since I’ve been in a fist fight. Literally. I was eleven. _

Alright, he wouldn’t embrace violence to that extent. At least, not here. But that guy had hurt her even more than he’d realized and Jon wanted Karma to come along and kick Harry Hardyng in the ass if he couldn’t. 

The clock struck midnight and he told himself they’d both be better off in bed. 

He carefully dislodged himself and turned the fire down. He rubbed at his sleepy eyes and stared at her a little longer as she slept. He’d stare at her all night if he could but he suspected sleep would win out in the end.

_Now, if I can just get my body to behave._

All that talk of pajamas earlier had set his mind racing down a dangerous path, one that had stirred his libido. He'd had to change topics before he'd got carried away. Her flannels weren't just adorable. They were on the woman he wanted. He didn’t just want to cuddle the fuck out of her. And, while the word fuck applied to an extent, he wanted to make love to Sansa, to show her she was amazing and desirable and everything a man with his head on halfway straight could want. He wanted to love her, to tell her he was falling in love with her.

_The weekend’s just getting started._

“Come on, sleepyhead,” he said softly. 

Still asleep, she whimpered as her hand started grasping at the space he’d been occupying a moment ago. She was reaching for him. He couldn’t let her come up empty-handed. 

Scooping her up in his arms, he lifted her off the sofa. He’d carry her to bed. 

_You really are a caveman. _

_Hey, I’m not throwing her over my shoulder at least. _

“I was getting cold,” she mumbled in a sleepy daze as he laid her down on top of the bed after pushing back the sheets and duvet. 

“I’ll keep your warm.”

“Thank you,” she sighed as he covered her up. 

He gingerly slid under the covers beside her, leaving a little space. J_ust enough to not cause any bruising when I inevitably wake up hard next to you in the morning._

“Closer,” she commanded in her sleepy voice and then shivered once more. 

He could hardly tell her no. He inched his hips a little closer and draped an arm over her. It was a perfect fit. He could be content like this all night…if he didn't wind up roasting in the damn lounge pants.

“Take them off,” she murmured.

“I’ll…what?” _I am trying to be good here, woman._

She said nothing else. She was back to snoring softly and they were still tiptoeing along these lines of what was okay and what wasn't despite there being only one bed. She trusted him. He didn’t want to do anything to change that but he could hold her, right? Tonight, he could keep her warm. 

When he woke hours later, they’d shifted. She’d rolled to face him during the night and he must’ve rolled to his other side. She was holding him now, cuddling him close. 

_She's made me the little spoon! She _is _a cuddler!_ _The best, most cuddliest cuddler ever!_

Did he love that? Hell, yes, he fucking loved that! He loved everything about this…except for his throbbing hard on that would be impossible to conceal in these pants.

"Christ," he muttered under his breath, fruitlessly shifting to ease the ache and trying to figure out a way to calm things down before she woke. _And sneak off to the shower to jack off, too. _

“Good morning.” 

Her voice was a sultry husk this early and that would not help his situation. She was up on one elbow, leaning over him as he glanced over his shoulder to find those bright blue eyes sparkling merrily at him. 

"Did you sleep well?" she asked, throwing the covers back. If she looked down from his face she would notice.

“_Um_…morning. Sure did." He yanked the covers back up despite the fact his body was on fire. "Sorry, I'm cold," he told her. 

"Do you want to shower first?"

"Yes! I mean, no!" 

Her eyes narrowed slightly but she was mostly puzzled looking. 

_Holy shit, this might get awkward. _

He cleared his throat and gave her a smile (a I'm-totally-not-hiding-my-erection-from-you-at-the-moment smile). "Ladies first."

"Okay, Jon. Thanks." 

She darted forward and kissed his cheek before hopping out of bed and disappearing into the bathroom.

"No, thank you," he groaned, staring at the door and willing himself to keep his hands above the covers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics by Foreigner.
> 
> I didn't get them out on the slopes this chapter as I'd planned but we'll get to that and other reunion activities next chapter. Thank you for reading!


	7. Uphill, Downhill

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you, Dena, for the pretty poster!!
> 
> Just a little reminder that Sansa's self-esteem has taken some very hard knocks pre-story in this AU so she starts this chapter off with some angsty fretting but things will be improving before chapter's end for her :)

[ ](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard#)

* * *

_“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” _

Just remembering her croaky morning voice had Sansa clearing her throat. 

_“Um…morning. Sure did,”_ he’d said after waking up with her clinging to him like a life preserver. He’d yanked the covers up to his neck and then proceeded to shoo her off to the bathroom.

_He did not shoo you off to the bathroom. He was polite. ‘Ladies first,’ he said._

_Yeah but he looked like he was scared or something. _

_Well, his fake girlfriend/platonic friend, emphasis on fake and platonic, was busy cuddling him like he was her long lost teddy bear twenty-four hours into this weekend getaway. _

_UGH! _

She’d got up to pee and wash her face (and quickly brush her hair and teeth!) but returned a few minutes later, saying she could wait to shower. It had still been early and she’d hoped they might get up and putter around the room together a few minutes, maybe turn on the TV and share a cup of coffee, just the two of them before it was time to be ‘on’ again. 

But that hadn’t happened. Jon had looked even more freaked out when she’d come out of the bathroom sooner than expected and then made a dash for the now free space himself. The shower had turned on a minute after she’d heard the toilet flush and, by that point, she’d been ready to curl up and cry. 

She’d always been a cuddler. She couldn’t help it, it was just who she was. Unfortunately, she’d never found a real cuddling partner that she’d felt comfortable with or who actually wanted to cuddle her in return. Maybe men weren’t made that way. And if they did want that, they probably preferred to do the holding. Harry’s idea of cuddling was to hold her close for a few seconds and then give her a little nudge and suggest she dive under the covers to cuddle something else for him. _Blech_. 

But Jon had seemed different. Last night, so much had felt different. They’d enjoyed each other’s company in front the fire and over their hot cocoa. He’d been so sweet and not freaked out by her tears. He’d even carried her to bed! He’d been perfect and she’d started to believe. One night and she was ready to believe this fairy tale was real. 

_That’s your problem, daydreamer. You want the fairy tale so badly that you’re always ready to buy it, hook, line and sinker._

And in the cool light of morning, Jon had woke up with the woman he was _pretending_ to be the boyfriend of to find her wrapped around him like a boa constrictor. 

Some guys might’ve taken that as an opening to start a little frisky business no matter their circumstances. She’d read that in a fanfic or twenty. Honestly, if Jon had done so, Sansa couldn’t say she would’ve objected. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d been like Houdini escaping a tank filled with water and something with tentacles. He’d probably offer to sleep on the sofa tonight. 

_“A guy needs a little spice to keep him invested,”_ Harry had told her. Maybe Jon would never even want her spice to begin with. He’d been sweet to agree to come to this and he’d kissed her a couple times now…but always for an audience. _Or to get you to stop crying_. It had been more like a comforting peck anyway. He’d not kissed her back that night in May and maybe he never…she needed to stop thinking this way.

Feeling heartsick, she wished she could magically find herself home in her bed with Lady this morning who would happily tolerate her cuddling even if doggy cuddles wasn’t exactly everything Sansa wanted. 

The smell of bacon filling the lodge’s dining hall was turning her stomach. All around her, the reunion goers were fueling up on breakfast in preparation for a day on the slopes. The catering company she'd found had been a raging success so far but right now she couldn’t handle anything but coffee. 

The room was crowded and someone had the heat turned up a little too high. She was suffocating in her layers. She’d need to see that it was adjusted. It was impossible to have a room the perfect temperature to suit every single person but you could find a happy medium to where most guests were happy. 

“I snagged the last two hazelnut creams for you.” 

She startled at the sound of his voice. She’d not expected him to make it through the buffet line so fast. “I thought you were getting another frittata muffin.”

“I am. They’re amazing. I just wanted to bring these back first.”

“You didn’t have to. They might run out of those muffins.” God, that had come out so frosty. What was the matter with her?

“I already had one and I remembered how you liked your coffee…three parts cream to one part coffee with the hazelnut flavored creamer being your favorite.” His smile was nervous, testing and imploring. 

He set them down beside her mug like a peace offering. Actually, his movements were so deliberate one would think they were grenades. He had no reason to make a peace offering. They hadn’t fought. 

_No fighting and no fucking either._

She winced inwardly at how pathetic she was. 

“Sansa?”

“Thank you, Jon. Better get in line if you want a shot at another muffin.” Now she sounded bitchy. _Stop it!_

“I’m not sure I’m all that hungry now,” she heard him say sadly as he walked away.

Now, she wanted to cry! Why did she ruin everything?! _It's 8AM! How have you ruined everything?! Calm down!_

She panicked at the thoughts of losing it here. Why did it even matter if she did? Most of these people didn’t truly matter to her and the ones who did wouldn’t think less of her if she was having a rough day. Arya would tell her to cry if she wanted to or shout or get up and walk out. _Or she’d tell you to fucking talk to him! _

But that wasn’t how Sansa was wired. She sat there, outwardly composed for the most part and stirring her coffee, because she was expected to be there and she didn’t know how to _not_ be there. 

Glancing around, she spotted Margaery sitting two tables over. Harry was absent and Margaery’s eyes were turned away at the moment but Sansa had a feeling she’d been watching her and watching their exchange like a hawk.

_Terrific. You can’t even pull off a happy fake relationship for more than a day. _

She gulped and went to say something to a member of the staff about the heat. She sat back down and took another sip of her coffee. It was just how she liked it now. Jon had brought her the cream he knew she liked, had snagged the last two. Jon cared enough to know what she liked. Did Harry ever even know how she liked her coffee?

She needed to chill out about this morning. Maybe he really had to pee or maybe he worried he had horrible morning breath. She needed to stop reading so much into every little thing, stop adding to that fortress around her heart or else they’d never stand a chance. 

She covertly scanned the crowd around the buffet table for Jon. He was talking to Trystane and laughing. It made her smile that he was hitting it off with Myrcella’s husband. Maybe they could spend a little time together on the slopes. Myrcella had mentioned that there wasn’t anything but waterskiing where Trystane grew up.

She glanced Jon’s way again, drawing a breath for courage and determined to smile at him if he was looking this way. He had his back to her. That was alright. She'd smile for him and thank him for being thoughtful about the creams when he returned. 

She decided to see what Margaery was doing. But Margaery was no longer at her table. Harry was still absent and Margaery was walking towards the buffet. 

_Oh…oh no._

She was walking straight up to Jon, tossing her hair in her skin tight hot pink pants with her dazzling smile already in place. 

“Please, don’t like her better,” she pleaded under her breath.

Margaery tapped him on the shoulder since he had his back to her. He spun around with a huge smile on his face. 

Sansa had only had coffee so far today but she was quite certain she was going to vomit. She couldn’t sit here just because she was expected to after all.

* * *

"Red sky at morning, sailor, take warning."

"I'm sorry?"

Trystane laughed and explained. "Just an old weather saying but my father always said there was truth in them. The sky was quite red when Cella and I woke this morning, glorious but still threatening, a red wrath over the snowy peaks. That blizzard might be coming sooner than they think."

"Oh, right. Yeah, I know the saying. I think it's shepherd where I come from though. I was honestly too preoccupied to notice the view this morning."

Trystane started smirking. "Well done then."

"Oh, I...I was...I meant..." He gave a vague chuckle to laugh off his nervousness before he said anything else that could be misinterpreted or misconstrued (he wouldn't dream of telling tales whether they were true or false when it came to Sansa) but he didn't feel very amused at the moment. 

Obviously, something wasn’t right between him and Sansa and he was becoming more and more convinced that he was somehow to blame for that. But what had he done? He thought back to the room when things had seemed to turn cool. _The shower._ He hadn’t wanted to hurry her off to the shower. He hadn’t wanted the cuddling to end either. In fact, he would’ve loved some more of that. _And maybe more than just that._

But he’d been embarrassed at the thought of her catching him with his raging boner the first morning they’d woke up sharing the same bed. She’d sweetly offered to share the bed with him and, horn dog that he was, he’d been ready to nail her to the mattress first thing this morning. _You really are a caveman._

He’d heard the water running and figured he might have a good twenty minutes to calm down. 

_Or maybe you could scratch that itch first,_ his baser desires had whispered instead.

He’d tried to talk himself out of acting but, with one flash of Sansa snuggled up against him and one fleeting memory of her lips pressed against his, those baser desires had quickly won out. 

His hand had snaked down the covers and slipped past the waistband of his longue pants. He’d licked his lips and started stroking his aching cock with his eyes already fixed on the box of tissues sitting on the nightstand. 

And God, had it felt good. It'd been many, many months since he'd done more than shake hands with the milkman and picturing Sansa this morning as he’d laid there had left him undone in record time. 

Of course, given his typical luck, he really shouldn’t have been surprised when she’d opened the bathroom door less than six minutes after she’d went in and mere seconds after he’d reached for those tissues.

_“I can wait to shower if you just want to hang out for a bit before breakfast.”_

_“Unnn! I’m…I’m gonna…excuse me.”_

Still breathing heavily, he’d managed to move off the bed and into that bathroom with the speed and agility of an Olympic track and field star or maybe some sort of secret agent eluding the bad guys, sticky boxers be damned.

But once he’d showered and come back out, Sansa had been…well, distant with him. There really wasn’t any other word for it. Did she think he'd minded the cuddling? Being the little spoon? No lover had ever made him the little spoon before Sansa and he was already jonesing for more of that. 

_Sweetheart, I would cuddle with you all winter. The blizzard could trap us here for a month and I'd be your little spoon or make you mine whenever you like._

Weather prophets to one side though, he only had the weekend, today and tomorrow until their flight out early Monday morning to maybe make this more than a favor and a pretense. 

‘Time and tide wait for no man.’ That was an old saying, too. 

He didn’t want to squander their time because he feared if he didn’t make his true intentions towards Sansa plain soon he might risk ever getting the opportunity again. 

He glanced Sansa’s way and saw she had left the table. He spotted Margaery Tyrell staring back at him from her seat as he scanned the room. He let his eyes pass right over her but smiled when they landed on Sansa speaking with a member of the lodge’s staff. Knowing her, she was probably saying something about the heat in the room. There could be no complaints about the food at all but she’d been worrying over everything being just so. 

Turning back to Trystane, they started talking again. He was a little younger than him but he was friendly and good company. If he couldn’t keep Sansa to himself all weekend (_like the caveman that I am_), he wouldn’t mind them spending time with Trystane and Myrcella. _Far better than having to make conversation with Harry and Margaery…ever again_. 

Speaking of which, where was Harry? Not with Margaery from what he’d seen. He didn’t strike Jon as the sort to miss breakfast so he was probably busy checking in with Mommy first. 

_He might be readying his skis to put me to shame forever on the slopes._

Jon had a competitive streak, a pretty big one honestly but he didn’t care that much about skiing so he didn’t care if Harry was better than him in that regard. All he cared about was showing him up big time when it came to how to treat one woman in particular. 

And, It's not like he _missed_ seeing Harry this morning. He’d probably have enough of him later but he’d promised Sansa he was going to take care of her this weekend. She’d been more wounded than he’d initially realized by Harry and maybe Margaery, too. He needed to get back to the table and stick by her like glue, no matter how distant she appeared this morning. 

But when he felt the tap on his shoulder, he’d thought for a second that maybe she’d come over because she might want to stick by him. The smile that was already on his face from Trystane’s tales of waterskiing mishaps grew wider in anticipation of seeing her next to him. 

It took all the courtesies and manners in his possession to keep that smile from completely curdling like spoiled milk when he found it was Margaery who had joined them.

“Good morning, Jon Snow.”

“Good morning, Margaery Tyrell.” Why were they using first and last names? And why didn’t she greet Trystane? 

Trystane gave a rather disdainful sniff and turned his full attention to the buffet table. 

_Great. Now, I’m stuck talking to her alone._

“You know, I thought your name sounded familiar to me,” she said as if she had a brilliant secret she was dying to share.

He gave her the once over in her hot pink pants, high-heeled boots and fitted black sweater with more than a hint of cleavage on display (_you are not seriously going to ski like that, are you?_) and could feel his smile sliding off his face but supposed he should play along. 

“Oh, yeah?”

“Your father and mine have been business partners.”

_And I care because…_

“You don’t say.”

“Yep.”

She seemed so pleased to have the connection but it wasn’t a connection at all, was it? His father had done business with lots of people over the years, including Fortune 500 men like Mace Tyrell. He highly doubted Old Moneybags Mace had ever considered his dad a ‘partner.’ Plus, she obviously was under the impression that who his father did business with mattered to him when it didn’t. They got on alright but they were hardly having heart-to-heart chats on a daily or even yearly basis, much less discussing old business deals.

And how had she made that connection in the first place when he was Jon Snow, not Targaryen? An attorney and not hawking advertising like his father? Well, that fired up his cross-examining curiosity. 

“May I ask how you made this discovery?”

“I was nearly sure we’d met before last night but then I thought maybe I knew you _through_ someone instead.” 

She batted her eyes at him and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to cringe or ask her if she had something in her eye. He noticed Trystane had abandoned him completely. If only he could abandon this conversation so easily. 

“Go on.” Trial tactics-sometimes it was best to let a person yap for a while. They often said too much.

“And then I realized it! Your father! I met him once at a dinner.” 

She snapped her fingers for emphasis as though that made it obvious and laid her hand on his arm. It was just a hand but it was an unwanted and unnecessary act of touching, a rather flirty sort of thing to do with a man you hardly knew, especially one who'd had a fine time making your fiancé look like a fool the night before. _Curious..._

“When was this?" he asked, barely controlling the grimace that her touch produced and shifting to dislodge her hold on him. 

Her eyes darted up and to the right. _Looking for a lie then._ “Uh…a while ago. Maybe a year ago, maybe two.” _She’s reaching, Your Honor._ “Too bad you weren’t there or we could’ve got to know each other sooner.” 

The hand found its hold on his arm again but he ignored it and the not-so-subtle hint of that last line and gave her a confused grin. “That’s interesting that you made the connection from one dinner however long ago considering I don’t share my father’s last name.”

Her confident (and coquettish) smile faltered only a second. “Oh, well…the resemblance…”

“The resemblance between me and my father?"

"Certainly."

"But I don’t have silver hair like him.”

Another stutter-step of that smile but she was determined. He'd have to give her that. _A dog with a bone_. “I’m sure you’ll look quite dashing when your hair silvers many years from now."

His brow furrowed at her clumsy attempt at flattery and she looked surprised and nervous over it. Obviously, Margaery Tyrell wasn't used to men not falling at her feet in an instant. He'd always loathed girls like that from a young age as much as he despised spoiled rich boys and braggarts like Harry. 

"I've been told many times how much I favor my mother and her family actually."

"It was probably your eyes or…”

“My eyes are grey, not indigo."

"Indigo?" she gulped.

"Yep, purple eyes. It's a strange little genetic anomaly from that side of the family. Are you sure you’ve met him? He’s rather…_distinct_ looking.”

“Your eyes are a lovely shade of grey. There's almost a hint of something unusual in them...”

He scowled at her evasion, ready to end this bullshit. “I’m going to go out on the world’s shortest limb and say you’ve not really met my father, Margaery. Our fathers may have done business together at some point but I doubt you’ve spent any time sitting next to my dad at a dinner and listening to him peddle his billboards and jingles. It's boring as fuck, I promise you and you don't seem like the sort of woman who tolerates boring for long." 

A libidinous grin was her response and her grip on his forearm tightened. "No, I like a man who can keep me on my toes and entertained, I suppose."

"Clearly. So, I'm left to assume that you were looking me up on social media last night and somehow ran across my father’s name. Is that about right, Ms. Tyrell?” 

His social media presence was minimal overall but he did have to live and work in this modern world. And unfortunately, Aegon was a SM junkie and had a (bad) habit of posting more than he probably should. He and Rhae had both spoken to him about it but Aegon seemed oblivious to their concerns…not that Jon’s concerns had ever mattered much at all to him. 

“Well, I…” She blushed and looked abashed. It was the fakest blush he’d ever seen. How could a person fake a blush? If anyone could, he supposed this snake in the grass could. “I confess you may be right. I was rather _curious_ about you after we met.” 

"About me?"

"Yes, you..._intrigued_ me last night. I liked the way you didn't back down from Harry's badgering. You were right about him and his mommy. It's pretty depressing to be honest. I guess you opened my eyes a bit and I've always appreciated a real man, one who can play hardball." 

She'd been right in his face, purring those words. Margaery's idea of an invitation. He almost felt sorry for her. Almost. 

“Ah, hardball. Right. Well, can I confess something to you, Margaery?”

“Of course,” she said, leaning in closer.

“I’m curious, too.”

“Oh?” She looked giddy.

“I’m curious what your game is.”

“My game?”

“Yeah. Why would a woman with all the advantages you were born with do these things? And what advantage is there in risking your engagement to Harry by coming on to a man you met yesterday? A man who’s here with a woman you claim is your friend? Are you bored? Insecure maybe? Or just a spiteful bitch?”

“I…”

“But to be honest, I’m not _that_ curious because you’re not all that interesting. And to be clear, I’m _not_ interested. I’m not interested in you. I’m not _going_ to be interested either, not at all. I haven’t the foggiest notion why Sansa’s boyfriends seem to peak your interest so. You're giving me all kinds of 'Single White Female' vibes at the moment though so here’s a warning for you. Stay away from her. Stay away from my girlfriend and stay away from me while you’re at it. Near or far, in person or online, leave us both alone. If you don't, I'll show you how I really play hardball and you won't like it. Got it?”

The blush was legit now. So were the dagger eyes and the ice in her tone. “Got it.”

She stalked away and he couldn’t care less about indulging in another frittata muffin now. He’d wasted too much time on Margaery Tyrell for a lifetime and spent too much time away from Sansa. 

_Sansa._

He looked back towards their table, their now _empty_ table. Her coffee mug had been tidied away and she was nowhere in sight. 

Knowing their past and having seen Margaery in action first-hand now, he felt a rising sense of panic over what Sansa might’ve thought of their chat. It had hardly been a chummy chat but looks can be deceiving. How had it looked to her? 

_Fuck._

His phone buzzed with a text the next second. Ygritte. What in the fuck? They'd not spoke in six months since she'd returned a box of his shit he hadn't wanted anyway. 

**Ygritte: Who is Margaery Tyrell and why was she sending me DMs asking about you last night?**

_Double fuck!_

* * *

**Arya: it’s too early for this on a Saturday**

**Sansa: I’m sorry.**

**Arya: u need to chill tf out **

**Sansa: Tell me about it.**

**Arya: he likes u, not her**

**Sansa: How do you know that?**

**Arya: the way he looked at u at xmas **

**Sansa: How was that?**

**Arya: like a big lovesick dork **

**Sansa: No! **

**Arya: I might have thrown up a little when he kept staring like he wanted to impregnate u on our parents loveseat during movie time after mistletoe**

**Sansa: REALLY?**

**Arya: ok, I’m kidding**

**Sansa: …**

**Arya: omg u would need me to clarify. I was serious about the lovesick dork part, not the throwing up. I stand by the wanting to impregnate u part **

Big lovesick dork.

_Lovesick? Jon? _

She sure would like to believe it. 

_And what did you do? Margaery tosses her hair and walks over to him and you’re immediately thinking the worst! _

She’d left the dining hall but only made it as far as the lodge’s recreation room where they’d be holding game night later and texted Arya, her hands shaking as she’d typed out her first text. Needless to say, it had been pretty pitiful. Luckily, with a sister like Arya, one was not permitted to wallow in self-pity for long. 

She was a little less panicked anyway when she’d bumped into him searching for her soon afterwards and apologized for leaving him at breakfast, saying she’d had to square something away for the Snowy Gap Sisters sing-along later, not strictly a lie but it hadn’t been a priority of hers either. 

She was still feeling jittery though after that text conversation with Arya and she couldn’t blame it solely on having two cups of coffee for breakfast. She couldn’t blame it on Margaery either. _ Lovesick? Jon? And impregnating me on the loveseat? Oh my._

Then, he’d shared his conversation with Margaery.

“I need to tell you something,” he said, all serious as a heart attack from the way he was looking at her. 

_Oh, shit._

But the dread that followed his words, the niggling fear that she was about to hear how Marg was quite a swell gal or something equally gut-churning, was squashed and quickly replaced by a new emotion. 

Anger. 

Actually, that didn’t quite cover it. 

**ANGER! **

There, that was more like it. 

Margaery had stalked him on social media just like she’d done to her after meeting Harry! What was with this woman?! She’d gone so far as to message Jon’s ex-girlfriend! What did she hope to glean from that?! Was she trying to debunk their fake/pretend relationship?! And was she seriously making a play for Jon when she was engaged to Harry?! Seriously, what in the fuck?!

“I’m sorry, Jon. I…I don’t even know what to say. I think she needs therapy or something.”

“For certain but you don’t have to say anything,” he shrugged, like it was water off a duck’s back now that he’d told her. “I just don’t want to keep anything from you. I hope my reaction doesn’t make the rest of the weekend difficult for you.”

He didn’t want to keep anything from her. She felt a stab of guilt once more for running away. He was being honest and straight forward but also concerned about how his blunt talk with Margaery might affect her. How sweet...and refreshing. 

“It’s fine. We’ll be fine.” 

She decided then and there she’d stop letting her twice-shy heart second-guess Jon. Lovesick or not, he had proved more than once that he genuinely cared about her and her feelings, whether they were friends or on their way to being more. That was more than enough to convince her it was time to stop fretting over this morning’s cuddling and his response to it. 

“Thank you for telling me but don’t worry about her. We’re here to have fun, right?” 

“Right. So, how about we go find out if I can handle the bunny slopes without breaking my leg?”

“Oh, don’t joke about that! And yes, let’s go ski.” 

She reached for his hand and was very pleased when he gave hers a squeeze in return. _I think we’re going to be just fine._

* * *

_So, about that competitive streak of mine…it’s not as bad as my temper._

Jon sucked in a deep breath, doing his best to keep from blowing his top when Harry angled his skis and came to a swooshing stop right in front of them at the bottom of his run, covering their lower halves with snow.

“Ooh, sorry about that,” the asshole chuckled.

Ignoring Harry, Jon turned to help dust the snow off Sansa and could hear Margaery beating her mitten-clad hands together from where she’d been watching Harry’s skiing prowess like she was her fiancée’s designated cheerleader (and like their earlier conversation hadn’t happened at all). She started laughing mean-spiritedly at their snow-dousing but when Sansa’s head whipped her way, those eyes flashing blue fire, and the laughter dried up instantly. He had a feeling there was a clash coming there before too long. 

Jon had been getting his ‘refresher’ lesson from Bret, the pimply teen the resort employed to help the newbies (and truly hopeless cases) learn skiing basics. He’d gone skiing once…eight years ago. 

“Sir, if you wouldn’t mind avoiding the rope tow area and our group when you’re finishing your run,” Bret told Harry.

“Yeah, yeah, kid. I didn’t meant to disrupt your lesson. Sure you don’t wanna join the men up on the mountain, Snow? Or do you like it here with the kiddos?” There were in fact three other students besides him and all of them were under the age of fourteen. 

He could just bite his tongue but then it’d seem like Harry’s bullshit was getting to him (which it was a little). He gave Harry an affable smile (that was fake as hell). “No, thanks, Harry. I'll let you handle the mountain without me. I’ve been told I’m not allowed to break my leg this trip.” 

Harry started chortling until Sansa glided over and spoke up. “That’s right, Jon.” Grasping the collar of his jacket while giving him the sultriest damn look, she murmured just loud enough to be heard Harry and the instructor. “I can’t have my man laid up with any broken limbs when he’s promised to warm me up properly the second we get back to our room, remember?” 

“I-I-I remember.” He’d meant to reply in equally sultry fashion. It _may_ have come out more like a whimper. 

And then, Sansa leaned forward and kissed the living daylights out of him, her mouth melding against his for a handful of seconds. _Holy shit! _ He felt her tongue teasing the seam of his mouth before she pulled away. He was panting when she did and he figured his pupils were as blown as hers appeared to be. He started to reach for her, to pull her back to him, completely forgetting where they were, but she shook her head subtly, her eyes flitting to the rest of their audience…their rather young audience.

“Um, sorry,” he mumbled to Bret as Sansa sauntered away a couple of steps to rejoin their little class.

“_Duuuuude_, you definitely don’t want any broken bones," he said with complete sincerity, followed by an offered fist bump. 

In the interim, Harry was apparently fumbling for some zinger but Jon was too damned dazed by that kiss to care. “Yeah, well…you won’t work up as much of a sweat skiing on the kiddie slopes and…I’m sure you’ll be, uh…there’s satisfaction in the sore muscles from a hard day of skiing and…the thrill of…”

Jon heard Bret scoffing while still savoring the hint of hazelnut cream on his lower lip. “I don’t know what kind of thrill sore muscles gives you, bud, but given my druthers, I’d take working up a sweat with a hottie like her any damn day of the year over skiing. And I say this as a person who loves skiing and goes every chance I get.” He quickly looked Jon’s way. “No offense to your lady.”

“None taken.”

Vanquished and wearing a pinched look of frustration, Harry pushed off with his poles towards Margaery, bellowing for all to hear about the fallen tree trunk he’d jumped earlier. 

“What a douche,” Bret said to Harry’s back before continuing the lesson. _Yes, he's the douchiest douche to ever douche._ Bret was getting a fat tip. 

Hopefully, Harry would get on the damn lift soon which would carry him back up the mountain. _Out of sight, out of mind. And we never saw him again, ranger._

Shoving his callous thoughts aside, he looked to Sansa who was grinning at him as Bret went over how to get started. She didn’t need the instructions. She’d gone skiing some when she’d been in school up here and a handful of times since but she was standing by his side and it warmed his heart. _And hell yes, I’ll warm you up later if you’ll allow even if it’s just cuddling in front of the fire with more hot cocoa. _

“Sorry, we’re late. I couldn’t make heads or tails of these boots and all the straps.”

Jon smiled as Trystane and Myrcella joined them. At least, he wasn’t alone in being a novice. 

A half-hour later, the four of them were at the top of the softest, fuzziest bunny slope of them all.

“Are we sure the rope tow was supposed to bring us this far? This seems too high. That’s awfully far down from here,” Trystane was complaining, while eying the bottom of the slope warily.

“It’s not too high. You’ll be fine, I promise,” Myrcella was giggling before taking her husband’s hand and leading him to the edge.

“We’re next,” Sansa said, grasping his hand. They couldn’t hold hands going downhill obviously but he’d take any opportunity to hold her hand…even with mittens on. “Good luck and I’ll see you at the bottom.” 

“Yeah, break a leg.” She gasped and he rolled his eyes at himself. “For luck, I meant. That was a _very_ poor choice of phrase.” Now, Sansa was giggling at him and that was perfect really.

They adjusted their goggles and she started off first. Soon, he was following in her wake, feeling the bracing cold breeze on his face as his speed picked up. He watched her red ponytail swinging free of her ear warmers. She’d looked like a perfect little ski bunny with her rosy cheeks in her puffy jacket and boots since they’d come out here. 

He glanced up at the sky and noticed the sun was now hiding behind the colds. Those clouds looked dark grey and heavy with snow but at the moment, he wasn’t worried. This was fun. 

The slope leveled off before he even had a chance to fully enjoy the experience and he definitely liked skiing more than he recalled from his other trip. He’d like to do this some more with her. He'd like to kiss her when they reached the bottom, too. 

They came to a stop within a few feet of each other and he awkwardly walked his way over to her. 

“Did you like it?” she asked, all breathless and grinning delightedly. 

“I really did. Let’s go again.” Trystane and Myrcella were already waving to them from the rope tow. 

He could kiss her when they reached the bottom next time. 

But just as they’d made it to the top of their bunny slope again, there was a shout from the more advanced run next to theirs.

“Someone call for medical! Some guy’s hurt over here! May have broken his leg!”

* * *

_“And call my mother!”_ Harry had wailed as the medical team had loaded him onto the snowmobile’s stretcher cart.

Much as she had sympathy for anyone suffering from a potentially broken bone, she’d nearly started sniggering at that. 

Margaery had looked around at the ring of spectators uncertainly and asked if ‘someone’ could do that for her before hurrying after her fiancé and the medical personnel. 

‘Someone’ would obviously be Sansa since no one else here knew Harry from Adam really, much less his mommy’s cell phone number.

_“Don’t let that little schemer pull the plug on my son, Sansa!”_ Anya had cried fifteen minutes later when Sansa had explained what had happened. 

_“No one’s pulling any plugs, Anya. He may have broken his ankle but he’s going to live.”_

_“Please, look after him, Sansa! I know I can trust you to actually take care of him! I’d just love it if you would.”_

_I’d just love it if you’d come fetch your baby boy and both leave me alone. _

Harry, in his effort to prove to someone in this world that he kicked ass at something, had attempted to jump his fallen tree trunk off-course yet again. The mighty trunk had won this round and Harry would be getting his ankle x-rayed and immobilized and enjoying the view of the mountain from the lodge’s large picture windows the rest of the weekend more than likely. 

_What a shame._

But there was no way in hell she would be sidelined to care for Harry, especially considering his fiancée was right here, when she was here with another man, one she actually cared about…one she was coming to care a lot about. 

Once the excitement from Harry’s mishap died down, she'd made a point of asking Jon if he’d want to try the next bunny slope with her.

_“It’s a little longer,”_ she'd warned. 

_“Let’s do it.”_

Carefree and happy, they'd spent their whole morning skiing. Afternoon was starting to creep in and most everyone had already headed in for lunch but they'd wanted to stay a little longer.

This particular run ended in a wooded area instead of at the rope tow where people tended to congregate. Every time they reached the bottom together, she'd been tempted to shuffle over to him in awkward ski-walk fashion and give him a little kiss. But that would be awfully forward for her with no champagne around. Still, she just might.

And on what they'd agreed would be their last run of the day, she'd decided she would. Just a little kiss, she didn't think he'd mind the surprise. He might even kiss her back. She felt giddy in anticipation of that kiss as she was swooshing down the gentle slope, always aware of him not far behind her with his reddened cheeks, wooly winter cap and boyish smile.

But when they reached bottom (blissfully alone at the moment with so many others already calling it a day), Jon surprised her first.

He slid to a stop right in front of her, his skis bracketing hers. They yanked off their goggles, grinning like mad at each other. But his boyish smile faded the next instant and his eyes grew dark. Before she knew it, he'd shed his gloves and was cupping her cold cheek with his warm hand. 

"Sansa...I want to kiss you." 

"You do?"

"Uh huh." 

She drew a breath, already puckering her lips in readiness but he hesitated. "What?"

His lips twitched, some shyness mixed in with that bold move of touching her face. "It's just that this will be the first time we kissed without anyone around to see it."

"I kissed you in May." 

He grimaced. "I really wish I'd kissed you back that night." Her heart simultaneously ached and swelled at those words. _Why didn't you?_ crossed her mind but she wouldn't spoil this picture perfect moment by asking. "I guess this will be the first time _I’ve_ kissed _you_ with no one watching us.”

“That’s not true. You kissed me last night when I was crying. Just once on the lips but you did.”

“Yeah, I guess I did. But I was comforting you. This isn't going to be that kind of a kiss." His darkened eyes were darting between her mouth and eyes. 

She shivered at those words and that promise. This was definitely not a kiss of comfort he was planning. 

He inched forward, his mouth drawing closer to hers. She recalled the heat of the kiss she'd given him earlier to shut Harry up but had a feeling this one would leave her feeling utterly melted. 

"So what are you waiting for?" she sighed, desperate for that kiss. 

"I just want you to know that this is me kissing you when no one’s around to see it. This is me kissing you simply because I want to kiss you so badly and hope that’s okay with you." His brow drew up in an adorable frown for a second. Maybe he was trying to work past his own doubts. "But if you don’t want me to or…”

She laughed and put his doubts to rest. “Shut up and kiss me, Jon Snow.” 

So, he did. 

The instant their lips met, his hand left her cheek so his arms could circle her waist. He kissed her softly, tenderly, their lips and tongues tasting and teasing until she was utterly melted. 

He kissed her passionately next while her hands clung to his jacket for fear of falling. She absorbed his body's warmth as they were pressed together. Her heart thump-thumped and she ached with wanting him. 

He kissed her until his skis started sliding further apart, pulling him into an involuntary split and they found themselves in a heap of limbs and skis, laughing at their mishap.

And when their laughter ended, he kissed her once more, holding her tightly against his body as the first few snowflakes started to fall around them on the cloudy afternoon. This kiss might've been her favorite, full of affection but desire too and something deeper maybe. 

"Reckon we should head in and warm up," he suggested, looking up at the sky with a smile, maybe the smile of the lovesick even. If it was, she was wearing the same smile.

"Yeah, we should." _We should warm each other up. _Her belly rumbled loudly from where she was still on top of him, making her blush with embarrassment. "Sorry. I didn't eat much breakfast."

"I noticed but no need to apologize for a hungry tummy. We should get some lunch anyway." 

"That'd be nice." 

They could eat and maybe they could talk. They'd need to talk about this at some point, about their wishes and intentions and about what these kisses away from the eyes of others meant but right now, she didn't want to talk. She didn't want to over think it either. She wanted another kiss. 

So, she gave him one. 

They made it inside for lunch eventually. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be taking a little posting hiatus to focus on writing and recharge but should return before too long. Thanks so much for reading ❤️❤️❤️


	8. Are you for real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Beautiful picset by @sonderlust45. Thank you, my dear!!
> 
> And thank you, Brad, Trivia Master :)

[ ](https://www.tumblr.com/dashboard#)

Jon had missed what this felt like, the start of a relationship where every little thing was new and thrilling, where the 'will they/won't they get together' question was answered at last. There was that sensation of floating but not falling, of riding your bicycle downhill with hands thrown out to the sides and not a care in the world (except you came safely to a stop at the bottom instead of meeting the neighbor’s mailbox head on.)

Had he ever truly known this part before? Yeah, probably. Ygritte hadn’t been his first girlfriend and there had been some good times with her at the start, too.

But this…this was different somehow. At least, that’s what he believed with all his heart and soul. Could Sansa possibly feel that way, too? 

They’d made it indoors at last, damp and chilled to the bone but with rosy cheeks and smiles that wouldn’t leave their faces. If he’d thought his cheeks had hurt last night from grinning so much, it was nothing compared to now. 

They’d passed by Harry who’d been sat in an armchair near the lodge’s huge common room fireplace with his ankle on an ottoman and no fiancée in sight. He’d been looking decidedly forlorn and Jon hadn’t been able to resist giving him a ‘tough luck with the ankle’ and a cheeky wave before wrapping an arm low around Sansa’s waist and guiding her to the elevator bay.

Afternoon was moving along and they had an event to attend in another hour or so but he didn’t care. This moment was picture perfect, just like those kisses in their quiet patch of woods had been outside.

The snow was falling steadily outside but they were snug here and dry. He’d started a fire while Sansa had changed and then she’d ordered them room service instead of going down for a late lunch when he’d been changing. _Such a smart lady_. Downstairs, there were people. Here, it was just them. 

Cozy lounging clothes and woolly dry socks, their feet propped up by the fire while sitting side by side on the sofa after they’d devoured their hot soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, what could be more ideal? They’d talked and kissed and kissed and talked and been touching all the while. He couldn’t seem to get enough of touching her. 

At present, he was laying back on the sofa with Sansa sprawled half on top of him. Naturally, that position had led to things happening below the belt and he'd wound up making an admission. It was a little embarrassing on one hand but he didn't want any misunderstandings between them if he could help it. 

"So that's why you bolted for the bathroom this morning?"

"Yeah, I didn't think you discovering that was a good way to start off the morning after we'd shared the bed for the first time," he said sheepishly. Strangely enough, she looked terribly relieved to learn of his boner. "What did you think? That I didn't want to be there with you?" She nodded shakily, a glimmer of tears starting to form. He nuzzled her cheek with his nose, until she started giggling. "Believe me, sweetheart, I wanted to stay right there more than anything."

She relaxed again, her fingers caressing his beard while his hands were moving from her waist, making their way very slowly up her sides. 

“Does this tickle?”

She nodded, still giggling. “Yes and you’re trying to distract me from my earlier question.”

“Me?” he asked, incredulous. 

“Yes, you.”

He nipped at her neck. “Never.”

She shivered from the graze of his teeth but was not to be deterred either. “Answer the question, counselor. Which one is your favorite trope?” 

He let his hands continue trailing their way upward, not too far, just far enough to get closer. “Why are we talking about fanfic right now?”

“Because you made me curious.”

“I’d rather just kiss you some more.” He leaned forward to prove it. 

She happily accepted his kiss, her fingers spearing through his hair and her thumb teasing his earlobe. Still…Sansa was determined. “Please, Jon.” She pouted so adorably. He was going to be in serious trouble if he ever found himself in a disagreement with her.

He chose at random. He’d read so many stories and liked a variety of popular tropes but most of his favorites involved winter. No big surprise considering the show was called ‘Winter’s Wolves.’ “Snowed in.”

She laughed. “We might be living that trope before long.” 

God, he had to admit he half hoped so. A convenient snow storm to trap them in this suite? _Yes, please. _“What’s yours?”

“It should be obvious considering,” she said, blushing madly. 

“Fake/pretend relationship?”

“Are you shocked?”

“No but my favorite part of those is when one of them admits they've got real feelings for the other.” _Just like the way I feel about you_. Should he say that? Was it too soon to say that?

“I love that part, too.” 

"Sansa..." He stroked her cheek tenderly, willing the words to come out. But he held off just long enough for Sansa to make a move of her own. She leaned forward to kiss him this time. He wasn't about to object to that. 

He’d liked her from the start, from the night they’d met. He’d thought he’d blown it but Sansa and fate had given him another chance. He would always be glad that Snowy Gap Preparatory School for Girls held ten year reunions for that reason alone and that Sansa had _really_ wanted to bring someone with her, to be her plus one. If not, he feared he might never have seen her again. He might never have become friends with her. He might never have got this beautiful start of something that he felt in his bones could turn out to be so wonderful, life changing really. 

“Friends to lovers,” he murmured a few minutes later after more kissing.

“What?”

“I changed my mind. Friends to lovers is really my favorite trope.” _Be mine, my darling friend. _

Her dazzling blue eyes turned a little softer as she sighed, “Oh, that's a favorite of mine, too.”

* * *

**Arya: told u he liked u**

**Sansa: Yes, you did.**

**Arya: u happy?**

**Sansa: Very. **

**Arya: good**

**Sansa: We’ve not defined it exactly yet but it feels more real in a way than anything else ever has. Does that make any sense?**

**Arya: …**

**Sansa: Never mind. The thing is, I really like him. I don’t want to mess it up by acting too clingy too soon.**

**Arya: u won’t**

**Sansa: You’re very confident. Thank you.**

**Arya: ur welcome and it figures anyway**

**Sansa: What figures?**

**Arya: ur fake bf became ur for real bf in less than 48 hrs. just what I’d expect from my perfect sis**

**Sansa: I am not perfect at all!**

**Arya: come back pregnant and I’ll agree with that**

**Sansa: !!!**

**Arya: tell Jon to keep kicking ass at game night and don't worry about Lady. she's happy with her auntie**

She was giggling as she sat her phone back down on the table for four. No, she wouldn’t be returning from this trip pregnant. 

_Well, I…I’m not on the pill. _

_So? They sell condoms at the lobby shop. You’re not coming back pregnant._

Accidental Baby Making was not a trope she planned on living out. 

“All good?” She realized he'd been watching her intently as she'd been texting. She’d have to remember that, unlike Harry, Jon was keen to read her moods and know what was on her mind. 

“Yes, sorry to be on the phone there.” 

"It's fine."

She leaned closer, inhaling his cologne and playfully nosing at the curl that was wrapped around his earlobe. She heard him sigh and knew he was relaxing again. She was attentive to his moods, too. 

"Was it your boss again?" Anya had been on another texting spree about the events and quizzing her over Harry. _Ask your son how he's doing yourself! _ Maybe Anya didn't think Harry was capable of knowing how he was doing on his own. Meanwhile, he was likely ignoring his mommy for the time being. 

"No. I mean, yes, she has been texting but I've only given her one brief reply to assure her that Harry is still among the land of the living. It was my sister I was texting."

"How's Lady?" 

"She's good. Getting spoiled terribly more than likely. How was Ghost when you spoke to Rhae?"

"Same." He raised his eyebrows and smirked. "Getting to know Robb pretty well apparently."

"Ah ha. I have a feeling my brother's apartment is sitting empty nine days out of ten. Think we'll have another wedding to attend before long?"

"Maybe," he nodded. "I already know who I'm asking to be my date if so."

Well, didn't that leave her all aflutter? "Arya wanted to know how skiing had gone.”

“Did you tell her that _I _didn’t break my leg?”

She tried not to laugh meanly over the emphasis he placed on ‘I.’ “I told her you slayed the bunny slopes.”

“Damn right, I did,” he chuckled. He straightened, shooting a scowl over her shoulder a second later. 

"Everything alright?"

"Yeah, we just seem to be the center of some people's attention."

She had felt their eyes on them but refused to glance their way unless necessary. Harry and Margaery were sitting at the table next to theirs. Harry looked decidedly unkempt for a change but Margaery was wearing a slinky green dress. Sansa wondered if she'd packed a single thing that wasn't sexy. 

She shrugged and twisted one of Jon's curls around her little finger. "We're having fun here. Forget about them. I'm doing my best to forget about them, too."

He grinned and kissed the tip of her nose. "They're already forgotten." He gave her a smoldering look next. "All I can see is you, sweetheart." Damn, he sure knew exactly what to say sometimes. And combined with that deep voice of his..._oh my poor panties._

She looked down at her own attire. Her cable-knit sweater and leggings weren't all that sexy but Jon had said she looked lovely earlier and that was good enough for her. _But that peachy satin baby doll with the matching thong is still at the lodge's boutique. You could always pick it up and surprise him for some time later if... _

Blushing at the thought of being _that_ bold, she lowered her voice, lest their table mates overhear her. “I also told Arya that we’re…” 

She stalled before finishing the sentence. What were they? They’d kissed a lot today and they’d talked quite a bit but they hadn’t exactly labeled their change in relationship status. Or had it really changed? Were they dating now? Were they going to _start_ dating? Were they supposed to start doing more in that ‘only one bed’ than just sleeping tonight? Her belly tightened up in a knot. It was a pleasant knot but maybe a nervous one, too. 

“I told her that we’re not…” She started to feel even more anxious and unsure. Was she assuming too much? 

He placed his warm hand on her knee and murmured, “We’re not pretending anymore.” 

Relief flooded her and she felt that same giddy rush as earlier. They weren’t pretending anymore. Wherever this went, today was the start of something real and she had loved every minute of it so far. 

“Lightning round’s getting ready to start, Jon,” Trystane said a second later, gleefully rubbing his hands together.

Jon pushed the sleeves of his sweater up. There was this look he got in his eye when the game was going, she wondered if that was the expression he wore when wading into courtroom battles. It was hot as hell. “Alright. Let’s do this,” he growled. _Oh my ovaries... _

Twenty minutes later, Sansa noticed Harry and Margaery grumbling with their table mates as their team led by Jon and Trystane continued to trounce all comers at trivia. Yes, her and Myrcella had both chimed in a time or two but the guys were definitely more engaged in the competitive aspect of this. 

“Alright everyone, the category is still science and technology. Here’s our next question: What is the one letter of the alphabet that can’t be found on the periodic table of…” Jon smacked their table’s bell with a giddy gleam in his eye before Bret, their ski instructor turned Game Night host, even finished the question. “Yes, Table 6?”

“J.”

“That’s correct!”

Trystane reached over her to high-five Jon. It had actually become more of a elaborate routine with them at this point and it was verging on ridiculous. _Hey, they had a few shots with the appetizers during the warm-up rounds. At least, they're having fun._

Myrcella rolled her eyes at her husband's antics but Sansa just wrapped her hands around Jon’s nicely toned bicep rather enjoying Margaery’s sourpuss expression. 

Harry had been silent as the grave after he'd wrongly named the first music video to air on MTV. _"'It's Video Killed the Radio Star,’ dude! Might be ancient history but even I know that!" _Bret had said, dead serious. 

“Next question: Before ‘hello’ became the standard telephone greeting, what word did Alexander Graham…”

“AHOY!” Trystane shouted.

“You’re supposed to ring the bell, dude.” He proceeded to ring the bell about a dozen times forcing poor Bret to acknowledge him. “Table 6 is correct again.”

That got a whoop from Jon.

“I guess we should get these guys together for a real trivia competition sometime, huh, Sansa? They might win their fame and fortune.”

Sansa started to reply that would be fun when she heard someone else speak up. 

“It’s funny how they seem to know nearly all the answers and so quickly. It’s almost like some of them had a hand in organizing this event tonight. Oh, wait…”

Margaery hadn’t even attempted to lower her voice, saying that loud and clear. The hum of chatter from the other tables died out as all eyes turned towards them. Harry started nodding as the eyes of the other couple at their table narrowed. A few other people were looking at her and Myrcella with suspicion, thanks to that rather blatant accusation. 

_It's trivial pursuit! Played for fun! _ Yes, Jon and Trystane were really into it but they weren't being dicks about winning. Their celebratory high-fives were no worse than what she'd witnessed earlier from others playing the air hockey game or doing karaoke. 

Myrcella looked ready to crawl under the table at the scrutiny. Jon and Trystane both looked pissed but a little unsure, too. They hardly knew anyone here. 

And, Margaery was smirking. _Fuck that. _Sansa wasn’t about to let this sore loser and her untrue remark spoil their evening. 

She stood and turned to face them, doing her best to channel that brisk, unflappable coolness she’d witnessed in her mother a time or twenty as a girl. She felt Jon’s hand tugging at hers but she gave him a quick smile. He’d stood up for her more than once this weekend. It was her turn to stand up for him.

“Are you suggesting my boyfriend, our teammates and I are cheating at this trivia competition? Are you _truly_ suggesting we’re pathetic enough to tell the lodge’s Game Night host which questions to ask so we would know the answers in advance? And for what? All the money that’s _not_ riding on this?” 

Margaery no longer looked so smug. Being directly confronted was apparently not something she'd expected in this situation. _Well, you should've thought that through a little more, bitch. _ “I wouldn’t want to cast stones but they do seem rather knowledgeable about all these questions and…”

“Would you prefer men who _don’t_ know anything? Are they supposed to be _ashamed_ of knowing things? I understand it’s probably a change of pace for you watching men who know their asses from a hole in the ground but clever men actually do exist.”

There were a couple of shocked gasps but also some quiet chuckles from others in the room. Harry hadn't exactly endeared himself to anyone so far this weekend. Speaking of which, his gums were flapping at the moment. He was probably aware there was an insult in there somewhere but was still puzzling it out. 

Margaery’s eyes glittered dangerously. “I’d hardly call answering stupid questions in a useless trivia game proof of cleverness or…”

“You’re right. A much more clever thing to do is to make a habit of going after your friend's boyfriends, isn’t it?" 

More gasps from their audience and a 'oh, that's fucked up' from Bret.

"Or maybe really clever people stalk the social media of a man you’ve only just met because he's dating that so-called friend of yours so you can make some lame, cringe-inducing pass at him? That’d be truly clever, I suppose…but that’s not me.” 

“What’s she talking about, babe?” Harry murmured.

“Oh, you don’t know, do you, Harry? Well, that’s alright. I’m sure your fiancée can explain it to you,” Sansa said in her best patronizing tone while Margaery stared back at her, half alarmed and half enraged. _If looks could kill_. Sansa turned towards their party host. “Bret? Did anyone help you choose tonight’s questions?”

“Well, yeah.”

A few scattered murmurs followed that but Sansa wasn’t worried. “Who was that?”

“Oh, my buddy Brad. He loves this kind of stuff.”

The murmurs became chuckles again. “That’s great, Bret. And has anyone here asked you about the questions or categories or in any way tried to get any information out of you regarding this competition before we began?”

“No.” 

“Terrific. So do you think we can continue our game?”

“Sure thing.”

Sansa smiled sunnily at Bret and the other guests before taking a seat again. Her face felt a little warm after being the center of attention but overall she was pleased. She’d shut Margaery up for once anyway. 

She felt Jon’s hand on her knee again. "Sansa Snark came out to play."

She giggled and shook her head. "Maybe just a bit."

"I liked it."

"Thank you."

"So, what are we doing after this?” he asked quietly as Bret started asking questions again, his interest in the game forgotten as he focused on her. 

She shrugged as nonchalantly as she could manage with that lovely dark look he was giving her. _Hot damn, I have some ideas_. “Whatever you like. I don’t care anything about playing Bingo or Charades with her around,” she said, casting a cool look back at Margaery. 

“Great. So can I make a request then?”

Her stomach swooped and she nodded. “What did you have in mind?” _And am I ready for it?_

“I think we should go on a date.”

“A date?” she squawked, surprised but pleased by the suggestion. 

“Yeah, I want to take you on a date.”

She started laughing. “We’re at a ski resort with no car and, even if we had one, it’s snowing like crazy out there.”

“Oh, we’re not leaving the resort but I can be inventive. It’s probably not going to be as nice as hot chocolate by the fire but I’ve got an idea.”

“I’m all ears,” she said just as Trystane shouted out another answer.

“Duuuude...use the bell,” Bret corrected before conceding that Table Six was right again.

Once the trivia champs were declared (and celebrated wildly over the plastic trophy they won-Jon and Trystane made some sort of agreement to split custody of it..._boys_), Jon and Sansa went through the buffet line with Myrcella and Trystane before bidding them goodnight. 

Sansa was so excited over their upcoming date that she didn't even realize she'd accidentally left her phone lying on the table for a good twenty minutes after they'd left Game Night. Thankfully, someone had picked it up and turned it into the front desk before Jon had walked her to their suite. 

* * *

_“I’ll be back to pick you up at 10:30.”_

_“Back to pick me up? From our suite?”_

_“Yeah. My inventiveness needs a little time. You got a curfew, Cinderella?”_

She’d started giggling and, being as that was his new favorite thing, he’d grinned back at her like a dork before hurrying off to meet up with Bret. He was going to owe the kid a small fortune before this weekend was done but that was alright. 

Was he an expert at this sort of thing?

_Um…no._

Was he going to try and woo her to the best of his ability?

_Yes!_

Forty-five minutes later, everything was set and he’d returned to the suite to pick up his date. He ran his hand through his curls in an ill-fated attempt to tame them and finished the mint he’d popped in his mouth downstairs before knocking on the door.

“Did you forget your ke-” She stopped mid-question as her eyes lit up. “Oh, Jon…” He didn’t think he’d ever liked his name half so well until he’d heard Sansa say it, especially the way she sort of sighed it there. 

“I know they’re not much. Turns out that ski lodges don’t seem to keep many flowers on hand in wintertime but I wanted to bring you some.”

“Clearly, they need to get their priorities straight,” she snorted before accepting the offered bouquet with a soft smile. “Jon, they’re perfect.”

“No, they’re not.” They weren’t much at all and their bloom was past its peak. But Bret had said the little vase filled with blue roses and baby’s breath Jon had found outside the dining hall wouldn’t really be missed and he’d even found him some green tissue paper to wrap around them. 

“I say they are and you really shouldn’t argue with the lady you’re taking out this early on in the date, should you?”

“You make a good point.” He symbolically zipped his lips and he was getting more of those giggles now. “I wanted…I want to make tonight special for you, Sansa.” 

He wanted tonight to be special, wanted to show her how he felt. God, he wanted a lot of things but they could move at whatever pace she felt comfortable with. Most of all, he wanted her to know how amazing she was and how much he was looking forward to moving from a pretend relationship to real one. 

She leaned forward slowly, the flowers cradled in her hands between them as he placed his hands at her waist, feeling her kitten-soft sweater and the heat of her body under his palms. She lightly pressed her lips to his, making his heart thump-thump. “You’ve already succeeded, I’d say.”

“I’m just getting started,” he murmured before kissing her back. 

After the flowers were placed in their suite’s ice bucket with some water, they headed downstairs again. Past the ballroom where charades was still in full swing, he escorted her to the little conference room Bret had shown him. “_The local seniors play Bridge here on Tuesdays and the Wolf Pack Fliers have their monthly ‘get drunk and tell war stories’ get-together here, too. It’s not used for much else so you should be left alone here.”_

Tonight, the Bridge tables were all folded up, leaving the parquet floor bare. He'd thought about getting a bottle of wine but they'd had a good amount to drink over dinner. He didn't want alcohol interfering with what he had planned either. 

He flicked a switch turning on the light above the podium at the head of the room and left the rest of the room in shadows. They could see the snow falling through the picture window as he led her to the middle of the room. “Wait here for me?”

She nodded, a tremulous but tender smile on her face.

The sound system was from the previous century and so was the selection of vinyl records beside it. He hoped Sansa didn’t mind that. The turntable hummed to life and he carefully placed the needle on the song he’d chose to start with. He heard Sansa exhale softly and went to rejoin her.

“Cole Porter?” she asked.

“Yeah, his music’s all the rage with the Bridge crowd, I believe. Well, it was fifty, sixty years ago anyway.” 

She snickered but her eyes were so wide and wonder-filled. Had he done that? Was he pleased as punch at the thoughts that maybe he had? _You’re damn right, I am._

“Now before you get too excited, I assure you I’m as dismal a dancer as I was when you tried to teach me the Cha-Cha back in May but I can sway with the best of them to a slow song.” 

One hand at her hip and one wrapped around her back, he pulled her into his arms, enjoying the warmth of her body against his. She put her hands on his shoulders, her head tilted to the side as she studied him for a moment before she drew closer. They fit together like two puzzle pieces, he thought. 

_‘Looking at you_

_While troubles are fleeing_

_I’m admiring the view_

_‘Cause it’s you I’m seeing_

_And the sweet honeydew_

_Of well-being _

_Settles upon me…’_

“You’re a bit of a romantic, aren’t you?” she sighed as they began to move.

“Maybe so. Don’t tell.” He could feel her smile against his cheek. “Do you mind it?” He highly suspected she didn’t. 

“I don’t mind it. I’m more than just a bit of a romantic.”

“Good because I’ve always wanted to romance a girl who would enjoy some romancing.” 

He surprised her with a dip, delighted by her elated gasp as he pulled her back to him again. She smelled like that vanilla almond lotion of hers and the peppermint schnapps she’d had in her hot cocoa as they were lingering over dessert. So lovely and sweet and they weren’t pretending anymore. 

“I think I want to give you more than just some romancing though.”

“Is that so? What were you planning on giving me, Jon?” she smirked, misinterpreting his words for something saucier than intended. 

_Oh, yeah…I want that, too. _But he wanted to make himself clear here. 

“I won’t lie and deny wanting that but…” He took one of her hands in his, drawing it up to his chest and placing it over his heart. “…I think the thing I’d most like to give you is this. If you want it, that is.”

“Oh…oh…” Her chin started to tremble and her eyes were growing wet with unshed tears. 

_Oh my heart_. To have and to cherish or to break and discard, his heart was hers and she may as well know it. He wasn’t sure what her reply would be for a few terrifying seconds. 

But her smile became simply radiant and she started nodding, lacing their fingers together over his chest and then drawing them away only to place them over her own heart. 

His chest felt like it might explode with everything she had him feeling. He didn't mind at all. “Is that a yes that you’d want this heart of mine?”

“That’s a yes.” She started carding a hand through his hair before pulling him close for a kiss. “I'd love that more than anything…if you would want mine, too.” 

* * *

Four songs. Four beautiful old songs that she’d never forget. They'd swayed together, happy and her heart so full of love. 

But only four songs. They’d danced to four songs when she couldn’t take it anymore. 

_“It’s getting close to my curfew,”_ she’d said, hoping he understood that teasing lilt in her voice.

_“I’d better get you home then,”_ he’d replied, that deep rumbling husk of his making her quiver.

Jon’s kisses were a revelation she decided on the seemingly endless trek back to their suite. 

From that first one on her parents’ loveseat, they’d been something special. Not sloppy though maybe a touch tentative, it had been tender…God, so tender. 

Then, the hot one they’d shared during the cocktail thing last night had set a fire singing through her blood. 

And today, the sweet, adoring ones at the bottom of their bunny slope earlier and the hungry, passion-filled ones in their suite afterwards…every single kiss, or set of kisses, she’d shared with Jon had been something unique and marvelous.

She wanted to lock them away in their own little safe place in her heart to remember all her life. And it was like he wanted them to last and last, forever maybe. Jon kissed her like he'd been waiting his whole life to kiss her and she wondered if maybe she'd been waiting her whole life for those kisses. 

In the elevator, they'd had a few merciful moments alone and she’d relished the feather-light brush of his lips on hers. Her lips had been parted, wanting him to devour her but he hadn’t. He’d just let them linger…which was probably good considering the doors had opened and a group of reunion-goers had joined them. Their flushed faces and kiss-swollen lips had been impossible to hide. She hadn’t felt like hiding anyway though the tension had rose and rose with the elevator car. This was new and perfect and he was hers.

Once they reached their suite, those kisses had started up again. Hungry nibbling teases, a little off-center and a little more forceful, he pushed her against the wall as soon as the door was closed behind them and started worshiping her mouth. Those kisses were full of promise, thrummingly erotic and leaving her trembling and desperate for more. _If he can work me up like this just kissing…_

She was burning up for him and it felt hot in the suite. He'd said he tended to be hot blooded and she figured he might be burning up, too. She tugged at his sweater even as the kisses continued. He yanked it over his head, a swift, fluid movement, leaving him in just an undershirt. His fingers crept under the hem of hers and she nodded dazedly. Soon, it was gone as well and she was down to her black camisole. 

"Your gorgeous," he said, his hands gliding reverently along her sides like they had earlier on the sofa. He dove in for another kiss. 

Her pulse thudded in her ears but she felt it between her legs, too. Everywhere their bodies touched was electric. Even the sound of his heavy, measured breath as he took his time with those lingering kisses was winding her up. She dug her nails into his muscled forearms, trying to keep from melting into a puddle at his feet with how much she wanted him. 

_Come back pregnant_. The words floated in front of her eyes without warning. She stepped back for a breath and to clear her head for half a minute. 

He chased her lips with his before realizing she’d broken off the kiss for some reason. God knew, she hadn’t wanted to. "I'm..." He gulped. "Sansa, is it too fast or..." 

“No, I want to. God, I really want to but I’m…do you have anything with you?” she asked shakily, afraid that this built-up anticipation might stumble in the face of certain realities.

He huffed a quiet laugh across her cheek, sounding relieved though still every bit as needy as she felt. “Yeah, I…not to sound like an overconfident jerk but I made a stop by the lobby shop earlier when you went to get your phone. I’m not saying I expected it but I just thought that maybe it’d be wise to…”

“You’re not an overconfident jerk. You’re being thoughtful and prepared.” 

She nipped at his bottom lip and got a sexy grin. Looping her arms behind his neck, she tilted her pelvis, straining towards him for more contact. He lifted her in his arms, his hands gripping her ass as he used the wall to help hold her with their bodies meshed together. When they shifted, she could feel his hard length against her, throbbing through her legging and right where she wanted that pressure the most.

"There's a perfectly good bed over there," he chuckled when she moaned. He started trailing kisses along her throat.

"I know but this wall was kind of boring all on its own." 

"Fuck..." he groaned when she arched her back and guided his mouth further down her chest. 

“Fuck,” she muttered the next moment when her accursed phone in her back pocket vibrated once, twice...and again.

“Fuck,” he cursed because obviously he felt that vibrating as well considering where his hands were.

“I’m ignoring it.”

“It might be your sister.”

“Even if it is, I’m fairly confident there’s no emergency she can’t handle without me for tonight.” But as soon as she said it, her mind started churning with possibilities and scenarios that frightened her. Arya had Lady and there was always a chance something unexpected might've happened to any of them. 

Jon read her shift from amorous to concerned and gently placed her back on her feet. “Take a look and then you can turn it off for tonight, right?”

“Definitely,” she said, pulling it from her pocket. “Phones off and then clothes off.” 

He was grinning and nodding eagerly as she rolled her eyes at the notifications. It wasn't Arya but Anya sending her an array of texts. Her boss texting her as it was nearing midnight while she was on vacation? Fuck that. 

But as she started to turn it off and put it down, the first few words of Anya's last text caught her eye.

**Anya: I've always liked you and I don’t know why you’d…**

In an instant, worry was doubled. Her breath caught in the throat as she swiped to unlock the phone and entered her passcode. Their previous conversation from the past several days had been deleted. Sansa's text from earlier assuring Anya that Harry seemed fine was gone. All that was there was a series of texts from Anya expressing confusion and dismay, wanting to know why Sansa was quitting her job with no notice and so rudely…and why she would call her a cunt.

“I’m…I…I would never say that,” she stammered, unable to believe what she was seeing on her phone. 

“What is it?” Feeling helpless and confused, she passed her phone to Jon. “What in the fuck?!” he shouted as he read.

That’s exactly what Sansa would like to know. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wonder who might've got their hands on Sansa's phone?? And wonder what punishment would be fitting for that person or persons who disrupted the Jonsa sexy times??
> 
> Lyrics from 'Looking at You' by Cole Porter. I've linked Lee Wiley's version [here](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mBssYdzcmP8)
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	9. ...and there's only one bed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, this edged into E territory so I bumped up the rating to be safe.

The winds were howling and the snow was still falling steadily outside their suite. Man or beast caught out there right now would be in for a rough night. But here, it was cozy and comfortable. Jon had lit a fire (_me make fire_) and the lights were low (_me woo woman.)_

But unfortunately, _their_ fire from earlier was temporarily burning low, thanks to someone’s malicious behavior. _Me need to hit someone with big rock._

He knew this would not be the case long-term but it sucked all the same. Some people really thought they were untouchable. Some people we going to find out otherwise. Legally speaking, there was still a limited amount of action he could take when it came to hacking someone's personal cell phone even if he had iron-clad evidence. It took time for the laws to catch up to the technology. But he was going to do his best to make them regret their actions. Most of all, he wanted to see Sansa free and clear of all their nonsense. 

He heard Sansa wrapping up her phone call as he emptied the packets into the hot water. He figured she could use it after earlier. _If only I had some decent marshmallows or whipped cream._

“Okay, Anya. Yes, I’m sorry that happened, too. Thanks. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” She hung up and looked his way, her pinched expression softening. “You made hot cocoa?”

“Yeah, I did.” He almost felt like blushing over how touched she seemed by the gesture. _Me make woman food_. He pointed to her phone lying on the counter. “That sounded amicable enough.”

“It was as amicable as could be considering she’d received that text.” Sansa had a screen shot of it sent from Anya when she’d called for clarification. ‘Someone’ sure hadn’t pulled any punches when it came to sabotaging Sansa’s career. “I told her someone must’ve gotten a hold of my phone, which they obviously did, and I never would’ve quit like that or called her such a name, which I wouldn’t. She believed me. I didn’t even have to mention a name for her to start making accusations.”

“Margaery?”

“Oh, yeah. Anya’s not a fan, to put it mildly.”

“And she doesn’t see the other side of that equation?”

“Nope, blind as a bat when it comes to his flaws.”

“How’s she think Margaery cracked your phone’s passcode?”

“Said she's sneaky and clever.”

“That’s it?”

“Yep. So, now I’ve just got to wonder if she or he or they fired off any more nasty messages in my name in the limited time they had access to my phone.”

He hadn’t quite made that jump yet. Sansa did business on Anya’s behalf with dozens and dozens of other businesses; caterers, florists, photographers, musicians, event venues and party rental supply companies. Tons of contacts that could’ve been compromised. “God, that’s really…fuck.”

“I know.”

Sansa grimaced as she rolled her neck so he escorted her over to their spot by the fire with the cocoa. Worrying over it all tonight wouldn’t help matters. They could only deal with fallout as it happened. No other conversations seemed to be missing from her text messages and Anya had been nearly at the top of those, right under Arya.

"Come here." He shifted her towards him and scooted behind her to start massaging her neck. "You're so tense...not than I'm surprised."

"Yeah. Sorry that all this has sort of killed the whole mood and..."

It had but he didn't blame her for that. "Don't worry about it." 

"But you were so sweet with our date and we were having such a good time and..."

"Sansa, the mood will come back, I promise. Your mind is understandably elsewhere right now. Just let me do what I can to help you relax, okay?"

"Thanks, Jon."

"You're welcome. What are Plus Ones for, right?"

She snickered and he darted forward to lightly kiss her cheek before returning to his massaging. The room was quiet except for the steady whir of the gas fireplace's blower. She sipped her cocoa and, when he finished her massage, he moved next to her so he could enjoy his as she stared at the fire.

“I should’ve changed my passcode. I asked him to check it for me once when I was in the shower and waiting on an important call. I didn’t really think about him remembering it but I guess I should’ve.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s my parents’ anniversary, 010181. He said it was also one of his cousin’s birthdays or something.”

“You shouldn’t blame yourself, Sansa. When you shared that with him, you trusted him. How could you’ve known he’d someday use it against you?”

“I should’ve changed it.”

“Could've, should've, would've. Beating yourself up won't change things. Hell, I've had the same one for seven years and I’d not be a bit surprised if Ygritte knew it. It’s just not something I’ve thought much about. But this behavior is so fucked up, so beyond the pale, and it’s time we did something about it.”

“Like what?”

He sat down his cocoa and wiped his palms down his pants legs. “Hi, I’m Jon Snow, your Plus One for this trip who's hoping it's okay if I call myself your boyfriend..." That was followed by a dear little gasp. "...and who would also like to act as your legal counsel.”

"My Plus One, my boyfriend _and_ my legal counsel? That's a lot of roles to take on."

"Well, I'm eager to prove myself." She started grinning. "I'll do my best to never let you down," he said sincerely as he held out his hand towards her. 

She stared at his hand for a moment, smiling bemusedly, before she shook it.

* * *

_“I think the thing I’d most like to give you is this. If you want it, that is,” he says with her hand over his heart. Thump-thump, thump-thump. Her own heart races at his words. _

_Kisses, sweet kisses as the scratch of the needle moves across the vinyl to the next song. The old record player's music is swelling again with the sounds of horns and strings from decades ago as he holds her, their bodies swaying in time together like something out of an old movie. _

_"Nothing wrong with old movies,"_ _he chuckles when she says as much. "They're full of romance and I can stand all the pointers I can get."_

_"I like the way you do romance."_

_"That's good to know, sweetheart," he tells her as pulls her a little closer. _

_‘Heaven, I'm in heaven_

_And the cares that hang around me through the week_

_Seem to vanish like a gambler's lucky streak_

_When we're out together dancing, cheek to cheek…’_

***THUMP***

She jolted at the sound and heard laughter of people passing down the hallway outside the door of their suite. The opening and closing of a door and then another drew her fully from her dreams. Even resorts as nice as this one had that unfortunate people and noise factor in the dead of night. 

Sansa blinked and looked at the clock by the bed. It was a little past 2AM. She'd probably been asleep an hour at most after her and Jon had talked until they could barely hold their eyes open. It had been a long day but at least there'd been the comfort of climbing into bed together and knowing it was okay to cuddle close. 

Jon’s arm was tucked around her, holding her. He'd made her his little spoon. She felt so safe in his arms, like nothing could really get her while she remained here. It was warm under the covers and just the thought of the bitter cold outside had her smiling with that smug joy of when you’re warm and safe in bed with hours left to sleep. 

She didn’t want to move. 

She also needed to pee. 

Cocktails before trivia night, drinks over dinner and dessert, half a bottle of water while she waited for Jon to fetch her for their date, hot cocoa by the fire as they discussed Jon’s options for dealing with…

_Ugh._

She did _not_ want to think about _that_ right now. It really wasn’t fair either. So close to those sexy times she’d been imagining with Jon finally becoming a reality after that hot make-out session against the wall. Fucking Harry. Fucking Margaery. Fuck them both. 

Resigned to the fact that ignoring her bladder wouldn’t make it go away, she eased her way out of Jon’s arms and quietly padded to the bathroom. She flicked on the overhead light and grimaced. Much too bright and no one’s looking their best at 2AM. She turned it back off and let the nightlight be it while she did her business. As she was washing up, she heard a sound through the wall that connected to the adjoining suite.

_“Mmmm…”_

Her mouth formed a shocked little ‘O’ for half a second before she started grinning, her cheeks heating up. At least someone was having their sexy times tonight. Well, this morning anyway. 

Leaving the bathroom, she pulled the door back up to block the nightlight and any sounds from the couple next door, her concerns over her phone being hacked fading again. Like Jon had said, they would deal with any more issues if they arose and they would do what they could to see that Margaery and Harry regretted their actions. 

But as she started to crawl back into bed, she thought of her job and what Jon had said about her starting her own business. He’d called the situation with Anya being her boss a potential conflict of interest and it certainly kept Harry, Margaery and their bullshit on her mind more than they deserved to be. She’d never quit Anya in the same manner as that text but she _could_ start her own business and maybe see if Myrcella would want to join her in that venture. What had Jon said earlier? He was eager to prove himself. She knew he was competitive whether they were talking about the law or trivia pursuit. Maybe she had a touch of that in her, too. _And maybe it's time to get out from under Anya and her meddlesome ways. _

She huffed, trying to settle, wishing she could tuck herself back into the cocoon of Jon's arms without disturbing him. Instead, she turned to look at him. It was dark but not totally dark. They’d left the curtains open slightly to watch the snowfall earlier and there was a little light reflecting off it and into their suite. She could see his outline. She could feel his warmth. 

“Hey.” His voice was gruff, gravelly. With her mind tumbling through her thoughts, she hadn’t realized his deep steady breathing had come to an end. “You okay?”

“Just had to get up for a minute and trying to settle down again. Sorry to disturb you.”

He reached out to touch her face, his slightly roughened fingertips and thumb reassuring…and seductive. “You’re not disturbing me.” She shivered at his touch and the deep husky way he’d said that. “You cold?”

“A little,” she lied. 

“Roll over and come closer. I’ll warm you up.” He raised his arm to beckon her. 

_Roll over and come closer_. Damn, the sound of his voice and those words had her mind spinning in a new direction…a naughty one.

She did as she was told but let her face pass close to his before she turned, long enough to breath in the faint scent of his cologne and the musk of his skin. There was just enough light to tell that his eyes were wide open and watching her move. They were like pools of black ink in the dark but she could picture them and the way they'd darkened when they'd been so close to moving from friends to lovers earlier.

She wasn’t cold but she was trembling. “Come here,” he said, drawing her back up against his front as he wrapped his arm back around her waist. 

He’d left off the sleep pants tonight. He was in his boxers and a tee. She was wearing her pajama bottoms but had opted to leave her black camisole from earlier on. Sexier than her pajama top anyway. 

_Jon right next to me…and there’s only one bed. _

She was suddenly overwhelmed with the urge to be bold. “_Mmmm_…this is nice.” She tugged at his arm, bringing it around her more securely as she shifted.

He scooted a bit closer. “Better?”

All thoughts of texts and exes and frenemies and going back to sleep had vanished completely. Her heart started pounding in her chest and warmth was unspooling lower down as she felt his body flush against hers. She shuddered with longing then quickly tried to play it off as snuggling.

“Easy now.” The groan was playful but maybe a bit of a warning too as he tightened his grip around her. “It’s awfully late or maybe early to be starting stuff, isn’t it?" She felt him nosing at her neck through her hair and had to stifle a moan. "Well past your curfew, too.” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she hummed, amused as she pressed herself back into him, eliciting another pitiful groan from him. “We’re two completely platonic friends pretending to have a romantic relationship while we share a bed on a road trip, right?”

He exhaled, a warm ghost of a laugh caressing her cheek. “Absolutely. It’s just been awhile since I’ve had a beautiful, platonic friend grinding her ass up against me.”

She reared into him again and reached back to run her fingers through his hair. She could feel him hardening against her even as he cuddled her close. She was the little spoon once more but no one would fall asleep during this. 

“Your hair smells divine,” he whispered.

She sank her teeth into her bottom lip, trying to control her breathing. The hand on the arm she was laying on reached for his arm, her fingernails gripping his bicep.

“Sansa?” His lips were on her neck, kissing and then lightly sucking at her pulse point. He dragged his hand across her belly to grip her hip as he started to rock into her. "Tell me what you want."

She tightened her grip on his curls and moved in time with him. “Friends to lovers,” she murmured.

They were both panting as the ache kept building. It was so intense and yet not nearly enough. But he stilled a couple of minutes later. “Sansa...this isn't fanfic.”

“I know. Please, Jon.” It was a needy, pitiful whine. 

“I need you to say it, sweetheart. Tell me.”

“I want you, Jon. Please...”

“God, yes.” 

He slid his hand up and under her camisole until he reached the underside of her breast. She moved the hand that had been gripping his arm to cover his hand, moving it up further, encouraging him to touch and tease her. He readily complied. The stimulation had her tightly clenching her thighs together as the ache became unbearable. He was hard as a rock against her.

“Jon,” she pleaded, nearly a wail.

He slid his hand down from her breast to the waistband of her pajama bottoms. He slipped his fingers underneath the fabric and over her mound. She parted her legs enough for him to trace her folds and circle her clit.

She arched her back and moaned. He moved his hand farther down, his fingers dipping into her wetness. “Fuck…” he huffed, his movements becoming more deliberate.

“Yes, yes, yes…”

She removed her hand from his hair so she could yank down her pajama bottoms and shimmy out of them. He deftly fingered her, working her up, making her desperate, as his lips and tongue trailed along her neck and shoulders and back to her ear. She would come soon like this but she wanted more than his hand for this first one. 

"I want you. I want all of you."

“Condom,” he said hoarsely, leaning across her to the nightstand where he’d sat the pack from the resort store earlier. He fumbled in the dark as she reached back, palming him through his boxers. “Fuck. Fucking...fuck…”

When she heard the crinkle of the wrapper tearing, she tugged his boxers down, closing her hand around his throbbing cock.

“Christ, Sansa…I’m…” He made a whimpery sound, pulling out of her grasp to roll the condom down, no doubt. 

Then, he was back. She could feel the prickle of his hair down there against her ass and the heat of his body. He pushed her forwards slightly as he was nestled between her slick folds. She could feel his nails digging into her hip, his breath coming in quick pants. 

He toyed with the hem of her cami. “Take this off.” She grew even more aroused by his command, a gentle tone but with a slight edge to it.

She quickly pulled it over her head and could tell he was doing them same with his tee before grabbing her again, her bare back to his bare chest. 

Not able to wait any longer, she angled herself forward even more, guiding him to her entrance and rearing back to take him in. At the same time, he pulled her downward by her hips and filled her completely. She shifted hips and then he moved, both trying to get this right even though it could be an awkward position especially with it being their first time together. Nevertheless, they found their way. He kissed her back, his beard tickling the damp skin as he began moving inside of her more steadily. 

“You’re tight...so tight on me, sweetheart,” he grunted. “You feel so fucking good.”

He moved his hand back to her clit and began teasing. She shuddered, a shameless groan of desire drawn from deep in her chest. His other hand snaked under her ribcage to find her breast. He pinched her nipple lightly and then swiped his thumb across it. 

“Fuck, Jon…harder…” she whimpered. She was already so close.

His thrusts increased in pace. “Shit, Sansa. You’re…fuck, it’s so good and…_unnn_…I feel like I’m going to come any second.”

“Me too,” she panted. “_Uhh_…yes, Jon…don’t stop!”

“Come for me, sweetheart. I want to feel you come.”

He slammed into her harder until she was gasping at each thrust. Desperate for the release, she covered the hand he had at her clit with her own, encouraging him to finish her off. He bit down on her shoulder and the next second, her peak hit and the stars came out behind her eyelids as she cried out, nearly sobbing his name over and over and far louder than she'd intended to. 

"That's it...that's...oh, shit...take it! Take it!" he growled with a few furious final thrusts, clamping a hand over her mouth to muffle her own cries as he pulsed inside of her. The move surprised her and only made her come harder.

A minute or more passed, that disconnected form of bliss where she was neither here nor there, just floating along as her climax crested and began to ebb. 

He pulled out of her, rolling to his back and breathing hard. “Jesus Fucking Christ.”

“God, yes.”

Yeah, it’d been a while for her if you didn't count her trusty vibrator. And, sex with Harry hadn’t been like this, maybe it hadn't been much to write home about at all. The memories had faded a good deal already. 

But this was not something she'd forget a year from now. Maybe not ten years from now. This was…whoa. _Whoa and wow and all the good W words…all the good words, period. Holy shit. _

Rolling to her back, she looked over at him, his outline still visible as he stared at the ceiling. What was he thinking?

“Jon?”

“I…Jesus, Sansa. I didn't...I didn't plan on...” He threw a hand up and huffed. "I really _am_ a caveman," he muttered.

She could feel the blood draining from her face as her insecurities surfaced in a heartbeat, Harry's hurtful words and actions springing to mind. “Was it…was it not good?”

"What?" He immediately rolled to face her, pulling her to him as one hand caressed her cheek. “No, sweetheart. Are you kidding? It was fucking amazing.” She grinned in the darkness, all those awful insecurities erased in the blink of an eye. “We just…”

“Just what?”

“I had planned on showing you tenderness. I wanted to take my time with you, kiss you everywhere first and...I wasn't planning on rutting into you, taking you from behind or..."

"Did I complain?" she asked, wryly. 

"Well...oh, thank God," he chuckled, obviously relieved of some insecurities himself. "For the record, I swear I can last longer than that."

"Are you under oath, counselor?"

"To you? Always," he laughed though the sentiment was touching. "But…shit, we didn’t even kiss during it.”

Her heart fluttered at his sweetness. “No, we didn't kiss but it's not like we're not doing it again, right?”

"Right. We are definitely doing it again. Gimme thirty minutes maybe?"

She giggled as they snuggled closer. "You can always kiss me now if you like." He immediately started to lean forward but she put her hand on his chest to stop him for a second. “And, just for the record, counselor, to the best of my recollection, I’ve never come harder or faster in my life.” 

She cupped his cheek and even in the dark, she could feel how widely he was smiling when he pressed his lips to hers. 

* * *

It was dawn, more or less. The sky looked slate grey compared to the dazzling white snow below it which had finally stopped sometime overnight. A late December dawn during that in-between Christmas and New Year's period where the days seemed to run into each other. New Year's. He smiled to himself thinking of being back home in a couple of days and taking Sansa out for New Year's Eve if she wanted. _Assuming we can go home._ If they couldn't, he wasn't going to worry about it right now.

But this morning, Jon was up and had been a busy boy already. He watched the water turning into coffee in the room's small coffeemaker before his eyes and turned off the machine right before he judged it'd be ready to beep. He didn't want to wake Sansa yet. 

Sipping his nearly scalding brew, Jon read over their final few texts.

**Jon: I hate to bother you with it but being stuck here makes it tricky.**

**Rhae: It’ll be my pleasure and you’re on vacation so stop worrying about it.**

**Jon: Thanks.**

**Rhae: No problem. No one messes with my little brother or his woman. **

_I’m always going to be your little brother_. Maybe he didn’t mind that so much in all honestly. _Margaery, meet hard ball. Her name is Rhaenys._

Setting his phone down on the counter, he gazed out at the blanket of white covering their balcony and the world beyond. 

The two chairs out on the balcony were so covered you couldn’t even tell they were supposed to be chairs anymore, just white mounds surrounded by more white. This was one of those snows he’d dreamed about as a kid. Drifts measured in feet rather than inches, no school for a week at least, it was like being given a stay of execution or something when you were ten. 

As an adult with responsibilities beyond math homework, however? Well, he couldn't say he was complaining this morning. _ It would be nice if we're not all snowed in here though._

He looked back over his shoulder to the bed where Sansa was still dozing. He could see strands of red hair peeking out from the duvet where he’d tucked around her to keep her warm until he returned. He hadn’t really wanted to leave her side but his text conversation with Rhae might’ve disturbed her. _Plus, I needed coffee_. He was exhausted from so little sleep and other activities but he'd pulled plenty of all-nighters during college, law school and since then when it came to trial prep. None of those had ever been half as satisfying as last night either. 

_I did get a little sleep at least a__nd I think maybe she could use the rest more than me_, he thought with a touch of smug pride. 

Oh yeah, they’d done it again during the night…and again about an hour ago. 

That last time, he’d turned the bedside lamp on low.

_“I want to watch you,”_ he’d murmured as she’d rode him.

She'd been a vision with their hands clasped together as she’d slowly rolled her hips, making it last and last until some unspoken understanding had been reached and something had flared in those dark blue eyes staring back at him. He’d flipped them then, thrilled by the screech she gave at that and even more pleased by her wanton moans afterwards.

Meanwhile, the resort needed to offer more than a 6-pack of rubbers at their store. _Better get down there before the panic shoppers wipe them out if we’re going to be snowed in. _

A quiet knock at the door had him reaching for the sleep pants he’d not bothered with last night. With a smile and one finger pressed to his lips, he carefully took the tray and then tipped the young lady who'd brought it. When he entered the sleeping area again with his surprise, her eyes were open.

“Good morning.”

“Good morning.” She pulled the duvet up to her chin as she shyly smiled at him. “What’s that?”

“Breakfast for my lady." Her cheeks grew pink. He loved it. "Figured that maybe you and I could use a little early morning sustenance after a long night.”

Her shy smile widened into a fuller one though her face turned from pink to red. “You ordered room service for me?”

He sat the tray down on their bedside table and leaned over to give her a chaste kiss. “I did. I know the buffet will be on downstairs in another hour and I like Trystane and Myrcella just fine but I thought this morning it could be you and me if you like.”

“Oh, Jon! That’s so sweet,” she said, sitting up and letting the duvet fall to her waist. _Hot damn_. His chin might’ve fallen to his chest. "_Mmm_...croissants and strawberries," she hummed as she removed the cover. "You even got cream for the berries." 

She dipped a ripe berry into the sweet cream and then popped it between her lips. She made a little moaning sound which he may have echoed as he watched her. 

_Oh, shit. _His sleep pants wouldn't disguise what that display was doing to him for long. 

She must've known it though. "Why don't you get under these covers with me?" she cooed with flashing eyes before she pulled the duvet back further, letting him see every inch of her.

"With pleasure."

His clothes soon found themselves on the floor. A few of the berries might've landed on the sheets before they were gobbled up. Some of the cream might've wound up other places as well making things a bit sticky before shower time. 

Jon would never complain. This was even better than those snow days as a kid...much better.

* * *

A couple of hours later, they were finally dressed and Sansa was fully apprised of what Jon had been up to while she slept.

_“It’s not going to undo the things they’ve done to you and it won’t deal with whatever the hell is wrong with her but psychology’s not really in my wheelhouse.”_

_“Nor mine.”_

They deserved more maybe but a good scare would be enough for Sansa.

Entering the large dining area to meet up with Myrcella and Trystane, they ran into Bret first. Sansa hid her amusement as Jon and the young man bumped fists and discussed the fresh snow and other things. 

“It’s going to be killer out there today, Snow Man. You coming out?” Bret asked.

“Snow Man?” Sansa repeated quietly, telling herself not to start giggling as Jon looked visibly embarrassed by his new nickname.

“I don’t know, Bret. I may stick close to the fire with my lady today but maybe we’ll come back and visit again sometime if Sansa likes.”

Her giggles became a sigh. _More than my Plus One_. “I’d like that very much.”

“Were you able to find those tapes?” Jon asked Bret next.

“Oh yeah, man. I’ll bring ‘em over when you’re ready.”

“Excellent.”

Bret moved on and they found the table where Myrcella and Trystane were eating breakfast. Jon said he’d get a couple of plates for them if Sansa wanted to take a seat.

“But we already ate.”

“And I’m hungry again,” he said with a wink. Well, it was almost a wink. It made her laugh and her cheeks heat up anyway.

Another couple of the girls from Snowy Gap came over to speak regarding the weather and plans for the day while Jon was busy getting food. Many of the reunion guests were concerned about their flights getting cancelled and such with the heavy snow but Sansa assured them that she had already been speaking with the resort’s management if that was the case. 

“We’ll hope that most of us can still leave tonight or in the morning as planned but they are willing to make arrangements for those of us forced to stay here a little longer.”

"Oh, that's reassuring. Thank you, Sansa. You've done such a great job managing this event." 

"Thank you. I'm in the business if you ever need some event planning done."

She was happily giving her contact information (_her_ contact information, not Anya's business number) when, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Margaery coming in. Harry was stumping along several paces behind her. Margaery gave her a sunny smile…as if the bitch had nothing to fear. Harry looked shifty and less sure of himself though. He met her eyes once and quickly look away. _The weak link._

“Could someone turn up the TV?,” Sansa asked the room in general in a nonchalant tone when she saw the scrawl at the bottom of the Sunday morning news. “Might tell us something about the weather.”

Several guests seconded her suggestion and someone found the volume switch on the back of the large flat panel that dominated one wall. 

**‘Anonymous reports surface of potential price gouging scandal and attempted cover-up at Tyrell Industries. Feds are taking the tip seriously and have asked the owner and CEO Mace Tyrell to meet with them sometime during the upcoming...’**

Dead silence for a handful of seconds and then, like an overturned beehive, a low buzzing filled the room. Everyone knew Margaery and the Tyrell family. _Oh dear, quite the scandal if it's true. _

“That’s…that’s all bullshit,” Margaery said, loud and clear, her eyes darting here and there, daring anyone to disagree with her. 

Some nodded uncertainly at her. Some dropped their eyes, fascinated by their breakfast all of the sudden. Harry was one of those even though he didn’t have any food yet. Some even smirked right at her.

“I’m sure it’s completely false, Margaery. It’s horrible when someone tells lies that way,” Sansa said sweetly. "Or maybe the tipster misunderstood something."

Margaery stalked towards her with Harry on her heels. “You…you…”

“I, what, Margaery?” she blinked, as innocent as a lamb.

Before Margaery could say anything else, Sansa felt a warm hand on her back. “I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I’m going to have to ask you to not speak with either of them while the case is under investigation.” Jon had returned. 

“Oh, right. Sorry,” Sansa said with a pious nod. 

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked.

Jon ignored him. “Here, you go,” he said, setting down a plate full of frittata muffins for him and lemon poppyseed ones for her and leaning forward to kiss her cheek. “Something to recover your energy after our, um…well…morning time.” He gave her a bashful grin and set down a glass of juice. 

Harry cleared his throat. Trystane started chuckling quietly as Myrcella shushed him though she was grinning and her own face was turning pink on Sansa’s behalf. 

“What case? Sansa doesn’t have anything to do with Tyrell Industries,” Margaery said, choosing to disregard the rest.

“Of course, she doesn’t. I’m talking about her phone being stolen and hacked last night.” 

Trystane and Myrcella both gasped. A few other curious eavesdroppers might’ve as well. They seemed to be drawing a crowd.

“And I’ll tell you something, Harry," Jon continued, "my mom and I may not be in constant touch like you and yours but I would never allow anyone to call her a name like that and get away with it.”

“I didn’t…”

“Harry, darling…" Margaery cut in, smiling widely with dagger eyes. "Shut up. I’m sure we have no idea what you’re babbling about, Jon Snow.”

“I’m pretty sure you do, Margaery Tyrell. It doesn’t matter. We’ll have our day in Court.”

Margaery scoffed. “Have you been drinking this early, Jon? Sansa, does he have a drinking problem?”

“No drinking problem at all. I’ve just been on the phone with my firm discussing Sansa’s case.”

“It’s Sunday.”

“So? Work never ceases for a State School boy like me but I have managed to do pretty well at the firm. Helps that my sister’s one of the partners and the boss seems to like me, I guess. He got a real kick out of me trying to Cha-cha at his wedding last May apparently. Did I ever tell you that, sweetheart?” he added with a grin Sansa’s way. “Anyway. I’m going to have to ask you both to not speak with Sansa.” 

“I’d rather just forget it, Jon. Anya wasn’t upset with me. She figured things out pretty quickly.” 

Margaery pursed her lips at that and Harry was squirming in his cast. 

“I know but anyone who tries to cost you your career with their lies shouldn't get to just walk away from that.” Their little audience was growing. Jon turned towards Harry and Margaery again. “You didn’t really think you could steal her phone, hack your way into her private conversations, send a damaging text in her name and get away with it, did you? As we’ve covered more than once, I’m an attorney…and I did warn you about playing hardball if you’ll recall, Miss Tyrell. You didn’t listen so well so now it’s time to pay the piper. I’m sure Daddy won’t mind bailing you out on a Defamation lawsuit though. Nice thing about old money, you’re all used to throwing money at things to make them go away. The settlement should come in handy for Sansa’s future business endeavors. Of course,” he said with a nod towards the TV, “Old Mace may have some other concerns from the sounds of things.”

“You’re crazy.”

“Haven’t you ever heard of The Computer Fraud and Abuse Act? The Stored Communications Act? The Electronic Communication Act? No? There’s already a good bit of ink in the books about these sorts of crimes. A nice landmark case might be a good challenge for me.”

“We don’t need to go to all that trouble, Jon.”

“You’re right, sweetheart. We’ll just stick to the civil offenses and sue them blind.”

Harry gulped. "I didn't really do the..."

Margaery interrupted him again. “You're not scaring me. You don’t have a lick of evidence.”

“Like hell, I don’t.” Jon turned and gave a wave across the room. Right on cue, Bret appeared with a large manila envelope in hand clearly stuff full of something. “Thanks, man.”

“No problem, dude.”

“What is that?” Margaery sniffed.

“Surveillance videos.”

“What?!”

Jon pointed up at the nearest security camera. “Did you think those were part of the ski motif?”

“You’re lying. You don't have anything.”

“Maybe. I _am_ an attorney and your fiancé already pointed out how we’re all a bunch of liars. Or maybe I’m not. But honestly, I think a lawsuit should be the least of your worries considering how you both hurt the woman I love.”

Sansa gasped before she could stop herself. No, they’d not said those three little words to each other yet but, when Jon turned to look at her after her gasp with his eyes so soft and caring, she knew that he did indeed love her. She knew it beyond a shadow of a doubt. And she knew she loved him, too.

“The woman you love?” Margaery said, mockingly. “Don’t you mean the woman you’re _pretending_ to be the boyfriend of?”

Sansa gasped again and this was _not_ a good gasp. Jon’s eyes widened. Holy shit, Margaery knew! 

Wait…how did she know? 

Thankfully, everyone else nearby seemed completely skeptical of Margaery’s comment. 

“What’re you talking about, lady?” Bret laughed. “Dude’s been romancing his babe all weekend.”

“Fake boyfriend? This isn't fanfiction, Margaery. And have you _seen_ Jon and Sansa together this weekend? Because I have,” Myrcella said in an uncommonly scathing tone for her. “If anyone’s relationship is questionable in its sincerity, I’d say it’s yours.”

"Amen, sister," Bret said, offering Myrcella a fist bump.

Several onlookers chortled and, maybe deciding they'd seen enough of this drama, started filtering off.

“It’s true! She asked him to be her fake boyfriend this weekend for this trip and…” Harry didn’t get to finish his statement since Margaery, who was finally catching on to what she’d basically admitted with her accusation, stomped on his foot…his injured one. “Ow! What’d you do that for, you bitch?!”

“Bitch? Don’t you call me a bitch, you fucking idiot!”

Sansa leaned forward serenely before they could really get going to whisper, “Guess you enjoyed reading my private text conversation with my sister but we do enjoy kidding around with each other. And I assure you, if you’re stupid enough to ask Arya about me and Jon, she’ll tell you exactly how happy we are together…right before she makes you wish you were never born.” She turned to Jon, feeling both lighter and terribly devious at the same time. "Honey, I don't know about you but with all that snow out there, I think I'd rather spend the morning hours lounging in our suite. I didn't get nearly enough sleep last night or this morning."

"Me, either," he replied, tucking an arm around her as they said goodbye to their friends and headed off, leaving a furiously bickering Harry and Margaery behind them. "Sansa?" He wrapped his arms around her waist, his grey eyes tender and sincere when they reached the elevators. 

"Yes?"

"I love you. I wanted to be sure you knew that was no act or..."

"I love you, too," she replied, cutting him off with a breathless kiss. 

When the kiss ended, she noticed the resort boutique was open for business. They'd be here at least another night and maybe she'd like to watch Jon's eyes nearly fall out of his head when she put on something other than her flannel pajamas tonight. 

"Jon? Mind if I pop inside to make a purchase before we go up?" 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lyrics from 'Cheek to Cheek' - Irving Berlin
> 
> I _hope_ the Marg/Harry part was satisfying enough. It's not the focal point of the story for me but we'll hear just a bit more about them in the final chapter which will cover the end of the trip and include an epilogue. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!!


	10. Plus One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lovely moodboard by @sweetaprilbutterfly. Thank you, honey!!

* * *

New Year’s Day at the Starks. Today, Ned and Catelyn Stark were celebrating their 39th wedding anniversary and all their kids were there to rejoice in the occasion. And yeah, eat lots of food, watch bowl games, etc. 

Along with the Starklings, as Rhae had dubbed them, and some extended family there were two new additions to the party this year. A couple of plus ones, you could say. A Targaryen and a Snow. _Except we’re both more than Plus Ones now_. 

Robb and Rhaenys had rang in the New Year last night with some bubbly before Robb had surprised Rhae with something sparkly which added an extra bit of cheer to the party and a little confusion for Jon. 

“If your brother marries my sister, doesn’t that make us like siblings-in-law or something?”

"I don't know."

"Would they tag us as pseudo-incest in fic?" he whispered in her ear.

Her lips twitched as she tried to keep a straight face. “I am _not_ going to acknowledge that question.”

"You'll be my sister's sister-in-law. I'll be your brother's brother-in-law. We'd be like...in-laws-in-law.”

“Stop,” she warned. 

"Oh, Sansa! We'd love to have you both in the wedding if you don't mind," Rhae announced. 

"If _she_ doesn't mind? What if I mind?" Jon whined. He was ignored.

"How big of a wedding did you want Rhae?"

"Pretty big if Robb agrees."

"Whatever you like, honey."

"Ooh, would you want to be our wedding planner? We'd pay you of course."

"I'd love to, Rhae! It could be my first big event! You'd definitely get a family discount though."

“Are you really going to leave Waynwood, Sansa?” Robb asked.

“Yeah, I am. The holiday party rush is about done and there’ll be a lull until Valentine’s. I’m going to break it to her next week over coffee. Hopefully, there won't be any tears.”

"Just don't call her a cunt,” Arya said. 

“I could never be so crass.”

“No, my lady could never be crass,” Jon said in a low voice, kissing her hand as their eyes met. 

She started flushing, her eyes begging him not to say too much. 

There had been a bit of ‘my lady’ and ‘my lord’ talk last night when they’d been good and buzzed from their own bottle of bubbly on New Year's Eve, not that he'd dream of telling anyone else that. They’d watched a 'Winter’s Wolves' marathon at Sansa’s for their New Year’s Eve entertainment, both of them being too exhausted from the trip to head out. 

There’d be other New Year’s Eves together to take her dancing and such, he hoped. They might've gone from Fake/Pretend Relationship to the real deal in a fairly short time frame but Jon already knew he never wanted to celebrate another holiday without Sansa by his side. 

He'd brought Ghost over and he and Lady had been quite content to remain side by side in the living room when their owners had departed for bedroom where the real fun had begun. He stifled a yawn as Arya spoke. 

“I’m glad you guys made it back in one piece yesterday.”

“Don’t remind me. I would’ve rather stayed at the resort all snowed in and snug. But at the last minute, the weather broke and a flight was open so we took it.”

“And we had one hellacious trip down the mountain.”

“You can say that again.”

“I think Bret and his buddy enjoyed our terror a little too much.”

"I think so, too. The uber driver said he couldn’t make it all the way to the resort and they took us half way down the mountain on their snowmobiles," Jon explained. _Driving like they had a death wish and laughing like maniacs. Teenagers. _The flight had been a breeze by comparison. 

"Being _in_ the wedding and planning it too won't be too much work for you, will it, Sans?" Robb asked.

"I'm sure I can manage it and I've got a friend I might ask to help if she's willing." 

Myrcella was happy at home with her son for the most part but, when Sansa had mentioned the idea of a business to her before her and Trystane had left on Sunday night, Myrcella had immediately taken a keen interest in joining Sansa's endeavor part-time. 

Most of the reunion guests had managed to get out as scheduled Sunday evening but Jon and Sansa's early Monday morning flight had wound up delayed and then canceled due to icy conditions so they'd got an extra night at the lodge. 

_And I will never ever complain about that. All my Snowed In fantasies came true. _

Someone else had missed his flight, too...since his ex-fiancée had left him behind._ Too bad for poor Harry. _Of course, Jon didn't feel remotely sorry for him. _ Wonder if he ever made it home? _

Just then, Sansa's phone chimed with a text. She rolled her eyes and passed it his way.

**Anya: Harry's flight is going to arrive around 8 finally after that horrible little bitch left him abandoned on that mountaintop with a broken leg! I'd go but I'm heading to a thing at the art gala to promote our little company. Could you please go fetch him from the airport for me?? I'd just love it if you would.**

**Sansa: Sorry, it's my parents' anniversary as I mentioned the last time you texted and we're having a party for them. Just call him an uber.**

"And cut the cord," she muttered as Jon shook his head.

"You are definitely having coffee with her, the sooner, the better."

"Yes, I am."

Presently, they were both cozied up on the Starks' loveseat again after everyone's bellies were full. It was hard to believe that a week earlier they’d kissed for the first time right here under a sprig of mistletoe while the rest of the family beamed at them (or made gagging noises depending on their disposition.) Today though, no mistletoe would be needed to get them to kiss. 

He wouldn’t count the unrequited kiss she gave him back in May as their first kiss. He was mentally calling it a fuck-up that he regretted but not nearly as much as he would've if things hadn’t worked out so well in the end. No, instead Jon was determined to look back on that blind date for his boss’s wedding in May as the beginning of something magical. _Straight outta fanfic…but not fictional in this case. _

"I gave up a night in bed with Jane Austen for you that night," Sansa said teasingly as the talk of weddings led back to that one. 

"And I appreciate you dressing up and going even more now. You looked absolutely stunning by the way." He leaned closer so only she would hear the next part. "Can we do a little bedtime reading again tonight?"

"Maybe. Modern or canon?" she whispered, her eyes twinkling merrily. 

"Modern...Alayne has some new lingerie to show off in it, I think." 

"Are we just going to be reading?" 

"Definitely not." 

"Mom? Jon and I'll be heading out around seven, alright? We're still jetlagged."

"Jetlagged? There was like zero time difference."

"Shut up, Robb."

Robb stuck his tongue out at her before encouraging Jon to continue their earlier discussion about the trip. “So what happened next?” 

“Uh…next?”

“Yeah. After you made your bluff about suing the pants off Tyrell…”

“Who said that was a bluff?”

“And you got the resort kid…”

“Bret.”

“…to bring you an envelope full of random video cassette tapes.”

“They could’ve been the real McCoy for all you know, Stark.”

“And after you enlisted Rhae to make that call to her friend with the Feds…”

“I would’ve done it regardless for Jon and Sansa, Robb.”

“Right but all of this is highly unethical.”

“Are you going to tell on us to Mom and Dad, Robb?”

“No.”

“I’m still pissed I didn’t get to do something.”

“Aww, Arya..."

“I had all sorts of ways I could make them regret they were ever born.”

"You're such a..."

"Brass knuckles for him, hair remover cream in her shampoo..."

“…sweet little sister.”

“_Anyway_,” Robb interrupted before Arya listed off all her unlawful plans, “what’d you and Sansa do after all that?”

“Oh uh…” 

Jon scratched his beard and shot a look Sansa’s way. She was suddenly ignoring her brother, sipping her chardonnay and talking to their sisters. There was a distinct flush to her cheeks though, a peachy pink…just like a certain bit of lingerie she’d surprised him with that morning.

_Your sister dressed up in a teddy and thong for me when we got back to our suite. As far as I’m concerned, just seeing her in it was like Christmas morning all over again. In fact, I’d say the whole day was better than twenty Christmases all rolled into one. I’m honestly surprised she could walk straight by the time we emerged for the Snowy Gap farewell banquet that night. She did lean on me a good bit the whole evening. To be honest, I think I was in a sex haze by that point. I might’ve spent the whole night drooling at everyone and I wouldn’t know it. Is breaking the bed a trope? Because we damn well gave it our all._

Naturally, he couldn’t say that. 

_But on the other hand…I don’t remember much else from before we got up to the room._

“Well, that's when Harry and Margaery came out of the dining hall in the middle of a furious argument, I’m afraid,” Sansa said.

_Oh, yeah…that_. “I thought things were about to turn violent.”

“Did he act like he might hit her?” Rhae asked concernedly.

“No, the other way around. Harry told Margaery he really couldn’t see himself with a woman who didn’t appreciate his mother…”

“And Margaery immediately said, ‘No one dumps me, you loser!’ and promptly yanked off the ring he’d given her and threw it in his face.”

"Oh my."

“Yep. From what Myrcella told us poor Harry spent the rest of Sunday with his luggage in the lobby area with his broken ankle.”

“I can’t believe you’d feel sorry for him, sweetheart.”

“I don’t! I just wished they could’ve both wound up being dumped somehow.”

“Fair point.”

He clinked his bottle to Sansa’s glass of wine while the others chuckled and agreed. 

“Yeah but did you hear that the Feds really may have found something rotten at Tyrell Industries?” Arya asked.

“I can hardly believe it but yeah.”

“It’d be a shame if Margaery dumped her rich boyfriend just as her family might be facing lean times.”

“Lean times? Please," Robb said. "They’ll find some way to make it all go away and she’ll be after the next rich guy that catches her eye.”

“Maybe so but she won’t be after my guy.”

Jon took her hand in his and squeezed it gently. “Nope, and even if she was, no one could steal me away from you in a million years, sweetheart.”

* * *

**One year later**

New Year’s Day and before Sansa had even opened her eyes, she knew dawn had come a good while ago. No matter. They’d both needed the rest after a very late night. 

Thanks to some of her friends and family, Sansa’s event-coordinating business had found even more work over the past eight months since she’d got things officially started than she would’ve imagined for being such small fry in a big pond. And last night, she’d been in charge of Targaryen Advertising’s New Year’s Eve Banquet, her largest event to date even passing Robb and Rhaenys’ wedding. 

Speaking of Robb and Rhae, they had married a little over a month ago and, since the newlyweds had elected to wait for their honeymoon until the holidays arrived and the law firm was closed, they were currently on their way back from their trip. Sansa hoped they’d had as much fun as her and Jon had last year. They’d particularly recommended Bret as a ski instructor…but not a snowmobile driver. 

Jon was still with the firm for now. Him and Robb were both up for partner this coming year. That would be good for them but she fully supported his plans to someday start somewhere on his own…or with a sister and brother-in-law maybe. Targaryen, Stark & Snow. She could picture it perfectly.

In not-so-picture-perfect things, Tyrell Industries had indeed suffered some major set-backs the past year and Margaery was busy hunting herself another wealthy boyfriend since she desperately needed one if she wanted to continue living the high life. She’d even hooked back up with Joffrey Baratheon at one point during that past year. _Eww_.

_“I actually feel sorry for her,”_ Myrcella had said when she’d told Sansa that.

_“Cella,”_ she’d laughed, _“He’s your brother.”_

_“And the biggest douchebag ever, Sansa. She would’ve been better off with Harry…and at least, I wouldn’t have to worry about her potentially being my sister-in-law someday.”_

_“Ugh, that’s true.”_

_“It’s alright. I highly doubt they’ll make it that far. He’s got quite the talent for running off everyone but our mother.”_

_“Poor Marg…stuck with another mama’s boy.”_

Sure enough, it hadn't lasted and Marg was still single as far as Sansa knew. Honestly, she didn't care. She was just glad she was out of her life.

Meanwhile, Harry was finding his own tough row to hoe since Anya had put two and two together regarding the texts that came from Sansa’s phone. In the doghouse with mommy, minus his fiancée and with an ankle still healing, he’d been demoted to a lower-level position at the party-event company where Sansa had once worked. 

_Thank God, I got out when I did_. 

Now, he was busy doing all those little things for mommy that Sansa used to do. _“I’d just love it if you would.”_ He didn’t have much choice if he wanted to stay on the gravy train. He’d even been volunteered a few times to perform as an entertainer when Anya was in a pinch. His alter ego? Chuckles the Clown. 

_“Quite perfect for him really,”_ Jon had said when they’d heard. _“I knew from the night we met he was a clown.”_

_“You called him an asshole.”_

_“That, too.” _

As for Sansa and Jon, they were blissfully happy and in love. Her Plus One had turned out to be everything she’d ever dreamed of in a friend and lover. She’d be forever grateful for being too daunted at the thought of attending the reunion alone but also brave enough to call him up and ask for a favor after being his on-the-fly date to wedding that spring. 

Jon had given up his apartment back in August when his lease was up after nearly eight months of living at Sansa’s 90% of the time. Her house was small but it was big enough for them, their dogs…and plus one perhaps. Jon said someday they’d find something bigger but it was home for now. 

Opening her eyes at last, Sansa grinned when she found black curls in her face. _She_ was cuddling _him_ close this morning. They often slept snuggled close on wintery nights and it seemed they’d fallen into some subconscious habit of alternating from night to night who would be the big spoon and who would be the little. She cuddled a little closer thinking it might be sweet to lie in longer. It was a holiday after all. 

But the clicking of doggy toenails on the hardwood told her that would not be the case. Two snouts were soon resting on the bed on the other side of Jon. 

“Time for a walk, huh?”

Lady and Ghost both panted.

“It’s terribly cold out there,” a gravelly voice rumbled. 

They both woofed. 

“If you were cats, we wouldn’t even be having this discussion. You’d just use your litter box and let us sleep.”

Ghost whimpered at him as Lady snorted in derision. 

“I don’t think they care. Nature calls and all.” Sansa kissed his back of his neck and heard a whimper that didn’t come from Ghost. “I can take them.” He’d had a good bit of bubbly and beer last night. Tipsy Jon was adorably sweet and she’d been giggling at his antics most of the night but he was bound to be nursing a hangover right now. 

“No, I’ll do it.” He pulled her hand that was resting on his stomach up to his mouth for a kiss. “Say, who got you this rock?”

It hadn’t been unexpected but she’d still been delighted by the surprise when he'd knelt and pulled out that little box. They’d kept it to themselves for nearly a week but Elia had noticed the ring last night and they knew their hours were numbered before Rhae would be texting. Jon’s mother and step-father had been invited over for the party. Robb and Rhae were going to stop by on their way home from the airport even. Perfect time to tell them all at once. 

_More than one thing actually_. 

She felt a quiver of nerves at the thought. 

“My boyfriend did,” she said in answer to his question, still not able to talk about it without giggling like a girl.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh huh. Gave it to me Christmas night after we got home from visiting our folks.”

“I hope he gave you a proper proposal."

"Very proper."

"Romantic?"

“It was,” she sighed, dreamily. It was. It really was. A dozen roses, Cole Porter, twinkling lights and just the two of them, all she ever wanted. 

A doggy whine brought them back to the present. 

“I’ll get…”

“No, stay here, sweetheart.”

“I can go with if…”

“You can if you want or you can stay here nice and snug and warm me up when I get back.” She shivered with pleasure at the thought. He rolled towards her for a quick kiss on the cheek and murmured, “We’ve not rung in the new year properly yet.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully and she laughed as he got out of bed with a groan.

He threw on his clothes and before long she could hear the front door opening and closing as the three of them headed out into the snowy morning. Sansa stretched out in the bed, enjoying that smug joy of being snug in bed on a cold day yet again. They didn’t have to be at her parents’ house for another three hours. Plenty of time to…

_Hold that thought_.

She launched herself out of bed as the wave of nausea struck like a lightening flash. So much for the smug joy of lying in.

“Here, sweetheart,” Jon said later after he’d returned to find her hugging the toilet and fixed her ginger tea. 

“Thank you," she groaned, wiping her face off and feeling gross. "I’m sorry.”

“Sansa, don’t ever say sorry for being sick. In sickness and in health, that's going to be us." He turned on the shower for her and helped her out of her pajamas. "If anyone should be sorry, it should be me for knocking you up like the caveman that I am.”

Oh yeah…Accidental Baby Making Trope: Check.

An early round of the flu in October had found them both in bed for a week and, when they were in bed together that much, even when they were sick…well, sometimes you’re not keeping track of every little thing. 

“Little thing?” Sansa asked when Jon put it that way as they were getting dressed to head over to her parents’ later on. 

“They are on the small side as objects go.”

She shook her head but laughed, “Well put, counselor.” 

_Mom, Dad…for your 40th Anniversary we got you a grandchild. You’ll have to wait for July to get him or her though_. 

She couldn’t imagine they’d be anything but overjoyed.

“But we’re telling them we’re engaged first, right? Your dad has been nothing but nice to me but I don’t want to push it.”

“Yes, my love. We’ll tell them we’re engaged first.”

"And then, we'll explain about the kid named Bret who's going to be part of the wedding party, right?"

"Sure thing."

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woo-hoo! COMPLETE! 
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, subscribing, kudos-ing, bookmarking and commenting! I appreciate you all :)


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